Built From Broken Days

 Built From Broken Days

Some days didn’t break me all at once.

They broke me slowly—

missed calls, empty rooms, promises that learned how to disappear.

Morning after morning, I woke up tired before the day even began.

Not the kind of tired sleep can fix—

the kind that sits in your chest and whispers, “Why try again?”

I tried anyway.

I learned how to smile without explaining my pain.

How to stand alone without calling it loneliness.

How to lose people without losing myself.

There were nights I cried in silence,

not because I was weak,

but because I was strong enough to feel everything.

Each failure taught me a language only survivors understand.

Each goodbye carved space for growth.

Each broken day added a brick I didn’t know I was laying.

One day, I looked back—

not with anger,

not with regret—

but with respect.

Because the life I stand in today

wasn’t gifted,

wasn’t easy,

wasn’t lucky.

It was built.

Built from broken days.

Built from tears no one saw.

Built from choosing to continue

when quitting felt kinder.

And if you’re reading this thinking you’re falling apa—

you’re not.