I didn’t mean for this to happen, but it occurred to me the other day that every single person I’m friends with is broken in some way or another.
I am friends with people who had abusive parents, who were in abusive relationships, who have severe depression, anxiety, trauma, PSTD, you name it. Now, obviously, with this generation, this isn’t so surprising. We’re all pretty fucked up, and unlike previous generations, we’re actually admitting it, and, again unlike previous generations, a lot of us are actually actively working on getting better. But this is different. I seek out broken people. I find the most broken people that I can and I take them under my wing, and I make sure they know they have someone who cares about them and is always available to talk if they need someone.
The way I see it, these are the people who are most likely to understand or appreciate me. But I often forget you cannot understand or appreciate someone for their problems unless you yourself face those same problems. They can have a vague, general understanding, but unless they were in my head, dealing with my psychological time displacement and horrible thoughts of self pain and hatred, they won’t ever really get me. But, while we may not be able to truly understand one another, we at least attempt. We embrace. We do not turn away. I am looking to help people not feel so alone, because I’ve been so alone, and it is awful.
But this goes beyond all that. I’ve covered that before. I’ve talked at length about how I seek out people to befriend so they don’t have to feel as lonely as I’ve felt. That’s boring, familiar territory, and I don’t want to tread it yet again. That’s why I say this goes beyond all that, because to me, broken people, really broken people, are the most normal of us all. We recognize our weaknesses instead of denying them, even if said weaknesses are what’s keeping us broken, and we are ecstatic when good things come our way because they so rarely do. We are the most in tune with ourselves, our emotions, and everything. We are the most human of the humans that I have ever known.
I am not saying this to say one type of person is better than another. Please don’t try and think that’s what I’m getting at here, because it’s not. All I’m saying is that it is nice to have people like myself. Broken people. Because we admit we’re broken, and too many don’t, and if only more would, they may be able to change what they don’t like and really focus on getting to be the best them they could be. They’re so scared of admitting defeat or showing signs of weakness, that they hide behind this ever present perpetual myth of “everything is fine” with a laugh and a smile and selfie, and yet if they could just be broken, admit they’re broken, in some way or some form for a little bit of time, they may just like who they could really be.
Maybe I’m wrong. It’s possible. I can be wrong about all kinds of stuff. But what I’m saying is there’s no shame in your brokenness, in your weakness, in your sadness. There is no shame in you.
You are broken.
You are beautiful.
I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!