The Infinite Pieces of Us

by Rebekah Crane

But more doesn’t always equal love.

How do you solve the messes you can’t see? In other words—Is fitting in just covering up who you really are in hopes that people don’t notice?

I think simply being there is the most loving thing a person can do.

And me—I’m held together by strings. My pieces would fall apart if someone cut me in the right place.

I am a messy person. No matter where I go, I spill.