The Art Of Falling Apart Novels & Stories

Hard to tell. She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she said softly, “I think I am starting to split internally.” Elsewhere, Adrian paused. Then answered quietly. “So am I.” A long silence followed. Not shared anymore. Parallel. But separate. Anna spoke softly. “This is the real collapse.” Adrian responded after a moment. “Yes.” “Not the system breaking.” A pause. “But identity fragmenting under unsupported coherence.” Silence. Anna looked forward. Her environment was still intact.

"You are the only one who knows yourself, your feelings, and what you need. Therefore, the opinion of others should only serve as a reference, but not as a guide." - Don Miguel Ruiz - Kimani Trinity Campbell - I was seated in my professor's office, surrounded by the mess of art supplies and completed works. The walls were cluttered with paintings, sculptures, and sketches. The room was cramped and cluttered, but it was clear that my professor loved every inch of it.

It was something deeper—something colder. It felt like art. Heartbreak, Breaking point, and a moment of decision that would change the entire perception of your life. A moment when you would realize that there would be lots of people who would hate you, curse you to die and... Tell you that you wouldn't deserve a life... A turning point when you would know - You were all alone from the beginning. Others would judge you but never extend their hand to protect you from what made them judge you. The way her fingers clawed at the tiles, the way her voice cracked from too much crying—it was art in motion. Unfiltered. Broken. It was thrilling.

I voiced out. "And whose fault was that?" she said glaring at me. Your psychotic mind, I mumbled beneath my breath, just then she decided to drop one of her crutches, she tried to make it look like an accident but failed miserably. She's going to be the death of me, mumbled before adding a string of curse words to the statement. I hurried over to her and supported her falling figure by putting my hand around her waist leading her to the nearest table. I ignore how right it felt to place my hand around her waist or how she seemed to fit perfectly in my arms every time I carry her. I went to pick up the fallen crutch and made my way back to her.

The days seemed to be flying for Ella after she began working with her therapist. She had experienced a roller coaster of emotions as she walked with her therapist Susie who she now felt was a good friend. Susie had helped her go through the painful journey of transition from a victim to a warrior. It had not been easy to work with a therapist because the sessions brought out raw emotions that overwhelmed Ella. Sometimes, she wanted to give up and stop but when she looked back, she was always determined to move on. Each day, she managed to regain her sanity and she developed better mechanisms to cope and move forward. She was leaving one of her sessions one day when she bumped into someone s

The chill seeped into his skin, sending an icy shiver through him. An oppressive feeling pressed against his chest, making him deeply uncomfortable. His pace quickened as he urged the medical staff to hurry. As the body was wheeled out, he swiftly yanked open the zipper of the body bag.

The first fracture in the fragile bond they had built. Snow melted on her cheeks. She didn’t know if it was from the cold or tears. “Elara,” Lucian whispered, voice cracking, “Let me explain.” But she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. Marek opened the car door. “Elara you can come inside.” She looked between the two men One who frightened her and One who broke her. Both who wanted her. And she whispered four words that sliced Lucian open: “I don’t know you.”

Because of her. Her phone buzzed again sometime after midnight. Ethan: Please. Talk to me. Her chest tightened. She typed three words. Deleted them. Typed again. Then she placed the phone face down. If she answered, she would break. And if she broke, she would choose herself. She couldn’t afford that. The next morning came without mercy. Maya showered mechanically, dressed carefully, applied makeup with steady hands. She chose neutral colors, simple lines of armor disguised as elegance.

No system is designed to fail. --- But every system has a limit. --- And once that limit is reached… Failure isn’t a possibility. --- It’s a certainty. --- Ariana felt it before she saw it. --- The pressure. The control. The forced structure holding everything together— --- Cracking. --- Not slowly. --- Not subtly. --- Breaking. --- The hallway trembled. --- Not physically. --- Structurally. --- The perfect alignment of movement… Was gone. ---

The consequences of what they were asking were far more serious than they were making it sound. Otherwise, I would not have been driven to jump off a building in my previous life. Even now, they were still trying their best to deceive me. They were being ruthless, for Jeffrey's sake. "You want to buy my future with just 300 thousand dollars? Don't you think that's too cheap? My education abroad alone is worth more than that." I did not give them any chances to keep trying to persuade me, and I began to busy myself at my desk. The looks in Callista's and Elise's eyes turned extremely sinister. They looked as if they wanted to swallow me whole.