The Art Of Falling Apart Novels & Stories

"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

It's just strange since we really aren't anything to each other. I won't lie and say, I'm not starting to have feelings, but he's my boss and I can't tell him how I feel. I need to get these feelings out before I lose what little control I have. I fill my paint tray and turn on my music. I'm painting and dancing as I listen to 'Cooler Than Me.' By Mike Posner. I wiggle my hips, as my brush glides around the canvas. This where I love to be. In front of my easel, listening to tunes and zoning out. Letting the paint come together the way it wants.

"If Lily doesn't want to help me, then forget it. She doesn't trust that I'm capable enough. Lily must be worried about me…" I hurriedly waved my hands. "No, no, that's not it. I'm just worried about Matt. After all, that's—" Matt shoved me aside impatiently. "What's there to worry about? It's not my mom." I may be missing a screw, but I still had a conscience. I chased after them. "What if the practice surgery fails? I know I'm not in a position to say this, but that's still a human life." Matt rolled his eyes.

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.

And suddenly- Everything felt like it was about to fall apart.

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. ---