Broken

I stared down at my feet, counted my steps, and prayed that no one would see me. Evasiveness had been my nature for the past few months. Maybe it was the changing of seasons, watching the world slowly crumble as the summer leaves crinkled up and fell to the frosty grass, or perhaps my sudden departure from home had left me nostalgic. Regardless, my sense of purpose had faltered under the strains of life and left me feeling barren and distraught. My state of depression struck me in waves of overwhelming disappointment. I became critical of my person, disgusted with my figure, fixated on the fallacies of my character. My need for personal interaction grew but my drive for such interactions was oppressed by fear of dissatisfaction. What I needed was Love. It was fleeting in my life, broken from my last dance with its warm embrace. As I walked that lonely road, head down, my I-Pod blasting "boulevard of broken dreams," how perfect would it be that amidst the broken fragments of song I would meet a girl destined to change my life? Her entrance cued by the verse "Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me."