Broken People Quotes Novels & Stories

I am but I shake my head no. ”I'm here to break it to you that he isn't actually a good person. Remember what I used to tell you? Two shards of glass put together won't make a mirror. You're broken and he's broken. That constant push and pull that has been there since you were teenagers is a trauma response."

Mine. "You're not broken anymore," I said. My voice carried across the circle, strong despite the exhaustion I felt in my bones. "You were broken when your packs threw you away. When they looked at your scars and your missing pieces and decided you weren't worth keeping. But you're whole now. Here. With each other." Silence. They were all watching me deep concentration.

I say glumly. “Why do you think that?” She asks, her tone sounding sad. “I’m broken and damaged. This should go to someone… who isn’t,” I say dejectedly. “You have been broken – physically and mentally – that’s true, but why does that make you undeserving of such a gift? The way I see it, it means you’re someone who can understand its significance and who will use it wisely,” she says as she locks her eyes with mine. “Did you know, when a broken bone is healing, during that time, that broken place in the bone becomes its strongest part? Being broken isn’t a personality flaw. It shows us just how strong we truly are.”

Looking back, I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. I laced my arm through hers and gave her a small smile, “You don’t have to be alright. I think most people are a little bit broken, and that’s okay. No one gets through life unscathed; we all end up wounded one way or another. I’m lucky I have such strong people in my life to help me get through those moments.”

The tip of my nose. "There is not a single iota of you that is unlovable. You draw people towards you as if you were the sunshine. You cast light wherever you go. If you were truly broken, truly damaged, you wouldn't be trying to live a life baking cupcakes to give joy to others. You would wither away in the dark, spread hate and anguish with every exhale. I know what broken looks like. I grew up with it. Stared it in the face. Killed it."

“I had three children looking at me. Waiting for me to be strong.” He set his cup down on the table carefully. “I know I hurt you.” I turned back to face him. “Do you?” I asked. He swallowed. “Yes.” I walked closer again, stopping just a few steps away from him. “My heart was broken,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Not cracked. Not slightly damaged. Broken.” His jaw tightened. “Can you tell me something?” I continued. He nodded slowly. “If a glass breaks… if it shatters into pieces… can you put it back together and make it look the same again?”

Everything seemed to come back to my mind again. I don’t know what I should do. I’m confused, scared with what I might learn. I’m scared that what I’m about to learn will break me more into pieces. I don’t want this anymore. I’m fed up of being weak and how I always need to fix my broken self. If only… If only he loves me… I’ll be able to at least accept everything.

I shouted and hit the glass table, and it broke. "You see that glass table? Think? Think of me. You shattered it.NoNo matter what you do, you will never be able to rebuild it. NoNo matter what else you do. "The harm has been done," I said, looking down at my bleeding hand.They just listened to me, and I just turned my back on them. They matter. Hopefully, someday I'll be the person next to you. I hope next time you will love me, at least for a moment.

Broken shards of glass lay scattered on the floor, mirroring the shattered pieces of her heart. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting a silvery glow upon the chaos. Aria's eyes fixated on the fragmented reflection, the cracks becoming symbolic of the pain and confusion consuming her. She closed her eyes, a quote she had once read resurfacing in her mind. "Don't tell me the moon is shining. Show me a glint of light on broken glass."