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Pieces

The other day, I mentioned to Kitty that the morning was weird, simply because things were happening a bit differently than they normally would.  He was instantly worried, and started to take my reassurances as trying to brush things off.  It took a while for him to realize that I truly did mean that nothing bad was happening.

He said that it was him simply being paranoid.  That he was broken, and it was just the way he is.

Well, I jumped on that without hesitation.  I rather forcefully told him that he is not broken.  Maybe a little weird.  And certainly not pristine, but not broken simply for who he is.  Not only that, but having genuine worry and concern for a loved one should never be something that counts as being broken.  Eventually, he said that while he may not believe that all the time, he did then.

At the same time, I look at Lux, who is somehow managing more and more crisis in his life, and trying to hold himself together.  When he hugs me, he tells me he's broken.  And, with this, I believe him.  However, I always tell him that he won't always be.  That he will eventually get to putting himself back together, and even if he's still a little off, he won't really be broken anymore.

We, as people, are not broken.  Some people may be fucked up pieces of shit, and some may be total nutcases, but it's who we are when whole, and that doesn't make us broken.  We are broken when something comes along and shatters us, which happens to everyone throughout our lifetime.  It is then our job to pick up those pieces, and put ourselves back together, trying to come up with a new whole, and making the most of what that is.

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