Sometimes We’re Broken and We Don’t Know Why

Sometimes we’re broken

and we don’t know why—

there’s no moment to point to,

no sharp edge we tripped over,

no memory that explains

the heaviness we wake up with.

Some wounds aren’t from events,

but from seasons.

From slow storms

that soaked us through

before we even realized

we were standing in the rain.

Sometimes the sadness

isn’t loud or dramatic—

it’s quiet,

a small tear in the soul

that widens over time

until the light slips through

and we mistake it for emptiness.

We say we’re fine

because nothing “bad” happened,

but our hearts ache anyway,

caught between the person we were

and the one we’re trying to become.

And maybe that’s the truth—

maybe being broken

doesn’t always have a reason.

Maybe sometimes

the heart just gets tired

from carrying everything alone.

But even then,

even in that quiet unraveling,

you’re not beyond repair.

You’re just learning yourself

in the hardest way—

piece by fragile piece,

pain by honest pain.

And one day,

the why won’t matter

as much as the fact

that you made it through

without needing an answer.