I limp along in my stupid broken life.

This stupid broken place I created before I was old enough

To even know what the hell I was doing.

I try to repair the things that I’ve broke.

I tear them down and start from scratch

But still the cracks show.

The rips return time after time.

I tape them up and pray they’ll stick this time.

I’m real.

I’m for sure.

I pay for my mistakes every day.

The dues are astronomical.

I’m not a real grandma.

I’m not a real wife.

I’ve never even been a real fiancĂ©’

I’m just this person who’s broke everything she’s ever dreamed of.

Who is sad about her broken things

Who doesn’t know how it got so messed up

Who’s wondering why.

And how.

Tired of halves and shareds and could’ve would’ve and should’ves

And how do I start anew?

I don’t even know.

~Sara Jane~

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