Fix Me Im Broken Novels & Stories

I smiled bitterly at myself. Sometimes I wonder if deserve to live? Is life really worth living? I mummer to myself. I didn't realize someone heard me just now. Why do you think your life is meanless; a voice from behind. I THINK YOU SHOULD VALUE YOURSELF MORE. For what is worth your life isn't worthless, you are not a loser, or what those bastards are spatting about. I THINK YOU ARE KIND, SMART, BEAUTIFUL, AND RADIANT, the boy said. WHO ARE YOU? Amy asked him. My name is Riley Williams, you seat behind me in 2nd period with Mr. Logan in English 2 Ap. Oh am sorry, I really don't know anyone in our class, Amy said honestly. That's okay Riley smiled. Am Amy Sinclaire nice to meet you, Riley?

Me: I really need to see u too but I don't have enough money to buy a ticket in order to come meet u, let alone see u preform. I couldn’t help but to feel bad for telling him this because I know how bad he wanted to see me and it's even more frustrating because he doesn't even understand HOW BAD I NEEEEEDDDDD TO MEET HIM! Jack: its okay I'll figure something out Figure something out? Was he going to go out of his way to set something up for me?

’ I say as Edmond comes to sit beside me. ‘I love you mate’ I tell him as I stare up at him, right through his eyes. ‘I love you too a billion times’ he says as he devours my mouth. My life is so full now and I would never exchange this for nothing in the world. If there is one thing I have learnt, it is that nothing really is impossible because if a broken Pieces of a heart could be fixed, then everything can be fixed once you find the right people. The end.

Weighted. Sure thing, there was no easy way to break somebody’s heart…

*I'm screwed. ****

Sofia Adams - April 2012 I was in my fifth meeting when I noticed a new member of the group leaning against the wall, far away from me. I waved cheerfully at Mick as he gave me a weak smile. He looked terrible... He had deep circles under his eyes, his hair was more disheveled than usual, and his clothes were wrinkled. A thin layer of sweat dripped from his face, almost in a sickly way. All of this, combined with his downcast expression and tired posture, led me to a conclusion: Mick was going through detox.

I had become a broken vessel, shattered and discarded, just like the windows of my soul. As I stood there, swaying on unsteady feet, I couldn't help but feel like a mere pile of mud, trampled on by the world around me. My spirit was fractured, my hope shattered. But deep down, buried beneath the layers of pain, a flicker of defiance remained. A small voice whispered, "Maybe, just maybe, there's a way to piece myself back together."

"Jaime, last night... You broke me first." ------The End-------

Like I was reciting a script I’d been forced to learn. But I said them anyway. Because he’d told me not to break. Because that was the only thing I had left that still felt like mine—whether I followed through or not. My weight shifted, uneven and careful, as I tested my balance. The room swayed slightly, exhaustion pulling at me like chains, but I stayed standing. Barely. Just enough to keep from sinking back down and letting the pain win. “I won’t break,” I repeated, quieter this time, my voice steadier than I felt. “Even if I already feel shattered.”