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 contin...
