Making the Pieces Fit

The moment she hit the concrete, she shattered into one hundred and seventy three pieces. It took her two years to scoop herself up and another two years to glue the pieces back together one by one. Every once in a while, a piece would break off again and she would have to step back, pick it up, and try and make it fit until she was whole. But whole was something she knew she would never be for nothing in this world is whole and pure and untainted. She looked to others for help, and they would for brief moments, but most of the time she stood alone, susceptible to new breakages, constantly looking for some kind of peace to call her own. She would have to accept her fate and push forward regardless.