I need to stop turning my heartache into publications but I feel as if that is impossible writing is the only way to ease the pain my heart is wrenched in . I remember when I had someone else to do it for me, it seemed so much easier to depend on someone else to pick up all the shattered pieces and place them back into their original places. Just like glass when people shatter sometimes there are pieces that will unfortunately be lost forever they may seem very small; very insignificant but I promise you they are the most important pieces of them all. These pieces are like the minuscule grains of salt without them potatoes just wouldn’t taste right. I strongly believe that if you lose enough of those microscopic pieces of yourself you’ll never be the same as you were when they were in tact. It’s terribly difficult to be the one putting yourself back together although its not impossible most people are incapable of doing such a thing. I learned the hard way more than once that you cannot depend on another human being to put you back together after you fall apart; especially if that human being in particular is the one who set you on fire and watched you burn in the first place. It’s bittersweet you know being gleeful you’re once again fixed but at the same time being dejected because you shouldn’t of been pushed so far that the only thing left to do was shatter.