Sometimes when things break, you can hold them together for
a while with string or glue or tape. Sometimes, nothing will hold
what’s broken, and the pieces fly all over, and though you think you
might be able to find them all again, one or two will always be
missing.
I flew apart. I broke. I shattered like a crystal vase dropped on a
concrete floor, and pieces of me scattered all over. Some of them I
was glad to see go. Some I never wanted to see again.

Autore: Megan Hart