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June 17, 2020

I wasn’t supposed to be loved.

I was meant to be a throwaway.

No one ever heals from their past.

They just turn into self-loathing damaged goods.

They fear eye contact.

They fear abandonment.

They fear still nights and silence.

I wasn’t meant to be loved. To be cherished.

When we met, I brought the broken pieces of my soul and my shattered heart in a flimsy plastic bag.

I thought I would be tossed out with those bags, and left to waste away like the innocence of my youth.

Instead, he sat with me for days and nights helping me mend my broken pieces, one fragment at a time.

I was nervous. 

I was scared. 

And hesitant if I could trust him. 

If he would be careful with the pieces that were the only remains I had of myself.

I would look his way suspiciously, anticipating for him to mess up. 

To give up.

But he was gentle. 

And gave each fragment careful respect and honor. 

We endured through the long hours of healing never giving up on each other.

We repaired the pieces together with a bond strong with trust and patience that could not undo the etching upon it; but from which emerged a new and bold heart.

I wasn’t supposed to be loved.

I was destined for something far greater.

-Tumkeen, Writer

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