Fragments of Us

Special Part

In the quiet of dawn, 
I pause at the mirror, 
The room still hushed, as if the world itself is holding its breath. 
I trace the faint lines that time has drawn on my face, 
Not of sorrow, but of strength, 
Etched softly, like whispers of battles fought and won, 
Of moments that tested me, 
Yet shaped me into someone I no longer fear to recognize.

My fingers glide across the cold glass, 
Tracing the reflection of who I once was— 
A version of me that loved deeply, recklessly, 
Who believed that love could hold everything together, 
Even when the edges began to fray. 
I remember her well, 
The way her heart swelled with hope, 
Even when the cracks were too visible to ignore. 
She held on to something slipping through her fingers, 
Afraid of the emptiness it would leave behind.

But today, the eyes staring back at me 
Carry a quiet depth, 
A glimmer of resilience that wasn’t there before. 
They’ve weathered storms, 
Seen the tides of love rise and fall, 
And somehow, despite the wreckage, 
They shine with a clarity I never thought possible. 
I meet my own gaze, no longer searching for answers in someone else, 
But finding the strength that has always been within me.

I see now the beauty in my scars, 
The way they catch the light, 
Reflecting not brokenness but growth, 
Silver threads woven into the tapestry of my soul. 
These marks—once symbols of pain— 
Have become proof of survival, 
Evidence that I’ve been to the depths and returned stronger, 
Not untouched, but unbroken.

I remember the nights I cried over what was lost, 
How each tear felt like it carved a deeper wound. 
But now I realize, 
It wasn’t just loss I grieved for— 
It was the parts of myself I had buried along the way, 
The dreams I had let slip in the pursuit of us. 
And in letting go of you, 
I’ve found those pieces of me again, 
Bringing them back to life with each breath, 
Each step forward into the unknown.

So I stand taller, 
Breathing in the quiet strength that comes with healing, 
Not waiting for anyone to save me, 
But knowing I’ve already saved myself. 
I no longer need to look back with longing, 
Because the past is no longer my prison, 
But a chapter that has closed.

As the light of a new day filters through the curtains, 
I whisper a soft goodbye— 
Not to you, but to the person I was when I clung to you. 
I honor her, the version of me who loved deeply, 
Who fought for something even when it was slipping away. 
But I no longer need her to guide me, 
For I’ve found my way on my own.

And with that final farewell, 
I step forward, not running from the past, 
But embracing the present with open arms. 
The world moves, and I move with it— 
Not because I’ve forgotten, 
But because I’ve learned to remember without the sting of regret.

The future waits, 
Not as a blank slate, 
But as a canvas already marked with the colors of my journey, 
Rich in the hues of lessons learned, 
And bright with the light of possibility. 
I walk into it—finally, truly, free.