Broken

Someone slapped me in the face hard, drove an uppercut to my jaw, kneed me in my stomach and swept my legs out from under me.

Not literally.

It just feels like it.

I can hardly stand and I can't tell which way is up or down or left or right. I don't know where I am or where I'm going. I barely know my name.

Being independent has its perks. But sometimes it's the hardest thing in the world, it seems, to pick your own self up and find your way home.

That's why friends make life possible. They are the beacons of light on the street corners to help me see my way, wherever it is I'm headed. Sometimes those lights fade and sometimes the beam brightly. Whichever way the shine, I'm so glad to have them to help light my way.

I'm hurt. I'm sad. I'm broken. I'm bruised. I'm disabled.

I'll mend.

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I'm standing in a room. It's so dark. There was one door at the very end with a bright shining light streaming through it. I was running for that door when it slammed shut in my face. Now as I turn around I see nothing but darkness. I see no windows or doors in this room. The door I came through is no longer. Where do I go? Where do I turn? I wish someone would turn on a light in another room so I could see even a mere outline of a direction to go. Until then, I can only spin in circles, ever widening, reaching out into the darkness and hoping that whatever I touch doesn't harm me more than I can heal. If no light ever shines, then I will be forced to circle forever until I can no longer reach out my hand and then if no one comes to take my hand, I will die.