So who broke you?
I'm sorry, what?
You're broken. Who did it?
What makes you think that I'm broken?
I can see it.
What do you see?
I see the way you smile sometimes. The way you stretch the edges of your lips as if it's the hardest thing you ever have to do.
I see the way you laugh. You laugh a little bit louder, a little bit longer, as if you're afraid that you might not get to laugh again.
I see the way you hug people. You hug them a little bit tighter because you are secretly afraid of being the first one to let go.
I see the way you walk. With your face towards the ground because you're afraid that people might catch your eyes and they can see right through your walls.
I notice how you are in a room full of people. How you put yourself in one corner of the room and you secretly wish you're somewhere else.
I also notice the things that you write. It's beautiful. In a way that only broken people can write.
But most of all, I notice how you didn't deny that you are broken when I asked who broke you.
You noticed a lot about me.
I guess I can't help it.
So... who broke YOU?
Now what makes YOU think that I am like you?
Broken people desperately look for others like them, people who would understand.
You think that we look for the ones like us because in order for people to fit into our lives, they themselves must be broken, too?
Because two broken people, together, can finally become complete.
And isn't that a dangerous thing?
To become complete?
No. To admit that you can only be complete if you are attached to someone else.
Because then it means, if they ever go, if they walk away, you are left broken once again?
So what do we do?
I guess, we kinda forgot that the broken pieces of ourselves do not lie in other people.
It's somewhere inside of us. It's just that after so long, we forgot what it looks like.
Something like that, yeah.
How can we find it?
I haven't figured that one out yet. I'll let you know once I do.
So... who broke you?