Being Broken Isn’t Bad

– Professor X

As a kid, while growing up, I was with little worries. I seemed to believe that I was, if not exceptionally brilliant, within the coffer of it. I assertively could tell myself that at every stage of growth in life, no matter the bouts of turbulence, I would always perform excellently, and if otherwise, I would always find the means to fit in averagely, if not perfectly. But then, life’s realities surfaced and everything seemed like a mirage – like the clouds shifting sides in the sky but won’t make a downpour to subside the scalding effect of the sun on the earth.

Among life’s realities that I have grown to know is people will always look up to me; they will always address me as that young intelligent person; as that person who is strong and they could find solace in; as that person that could give them succour when they are despondent; as that person who will always comprehend whatever the lecturer would say in class and take them tutorials on it; as that person who shouldn’t have bother with life itself; as that person whose life is completely perfect because he flashes a smile and doesn’t show the world the unhappy, fearful, meticulous, and weak part of him; as that person who is a god, for gods are perfect. Many more of life’s illusions harboured in the perception of people creep in, and I think for once, if actually I am not that god after all.

But then, as a human, I get tired, I begin to fight wars within myself; my soul, whole and self-efficacy are at loggerheads – the soul has become tired portraying perfectness and being referred to as that god. My soul is enervated for my life, as a human, is now filled with ambiguities because it has been strong for long. While on the contrary, my whole and self-efficacy want to always show the world that I am still strong; that I am still that genius who will always comprehend what the lecturers say every time, and will readily take them tutorials afterward; that they can, as before, run to me for help when myself is a mess that needs help to be human again; when myself is a being that is dying slowly, and needs attention and aid to recuperate; when myself is an entity who couldn’t have a definition to itself; when myself is someone of disparaging remark.

I wish I can tell the world, all of them, that I am also a human; that I can feel pain as they feel pain; that I cry the way they do; that most times, the way they can’t comprehend what the lecturers say, I also can’t comprehend; that I also get enervated of life, and needs attention, love and care; that I have a heart that pumps blood, and not a stone which holds no feelings; that as a human, I can breakdown as well; that I also have trying times; that I fight napoleon war to get a D in my grades, and that I also need tutorials to chase F out of my score sheet. I wish I can tell the world all those and many more, but no, I am strong, and I won’t let them see those weak parts of me. [adinserter name=”Block 3″][adinserter name=”Block 2″]

Dear fellow reading this, I want to tell you that this is not completely an account of my life, and I’m certain in one way or the other, you’re tired of being that god – perfect – that people see you as. If you are or find yourself in this state, let me ascertain you that it is not bad to be broken and tired. That being broken, flawed, and tired make you human. So dear fellow reading this, don’t feign that strength when you’re weak, don’t make up that pretense that you could give succour when yourself needs abundance of love, care and attention. Let people see you that you’re weak, let them know you could be vulnerable to what they also have fear in, and let them know you are also a human. Just like them, you need love, care and attention, and other necessities to swim in the raging tides of life.

If you ask me why I have written this, I would gladly tell you that it’s because I am broken. So, I am a human, you are a human, and being broken isn’t bad.

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