She saves everyone. She picks up the broken pieces after someone else’s mess and she tries her hardest to be there.
To her, it’s a gratifying feeling to be that certain someone who lifts people up when they’re at their lowest. Somewhat like a superhero, always there to save the day with her superpowers.
But the thing is…she’s not a superhero. She’s also human. No powers, just a regular human who bleeds. A regular human being who also gets tired.
Along with those broken pieces she picks up are the cuts she acquired from the broken shards of dreams that she tries to put back together, her bruised skin; which serves as a reminder of the battles she fought with the dark, unforgiving thoughts that torment others. Yet, all these remain invisible with a little concealer and a fake smile that she does so well.
But those remnants of broken emotions and demons stay trapped inside her mind. It all haunts her in the middle of the night, taking a piece of her and breaking it into a million pieces.
She saves everyone from their demons and the monsters under their beds…but who saves her? Who saves me?
I ask myself over and over. I go in circles trying to look for an answer that I deeply long for.
I found nothing.
To the cold, hard and unforgiving ground, I fall. Screaming, crying and breaking out frustration, anger and sadness.
Right there, I remain trying to solve what seems to be the impossible.
Then, it hit me.
Only I can save myself.