When My Dreams Broke

I built my future like a house of cards, careful, hopeful, holding my breath. Then one gust, one wrong step, and it all fell apart. No warning. No goodbye. Just broken pieces in my hands. For days, I sat among the ruins, staring at empty walls, surviving on cold cereal and takeout, too afraid to walk past the park where I’d dreamed of better days. No one knew. I smiled at gatherings, nodded along in meetings, scrolled through photos like everything was normal. But at night, I lay awake, heart hammering, mind racing through every “what if?” muffling my breath so no one would ask, “Are you okay?” Then one morning, I decided I couldn’t stay frozen. I didn’t fix my life. I just splashed water on my face, traded my usual coffee for herbal tea, It still catches me off guard, the buzz of a notification, a song that tugs at something raw. But I keep a list now: Small Things That Help. A quick text from a friend. The simple comfort of soup on a cold evening. The old dream isn’t gone, it’s just hibernating, like a seed waiting for spring. And me? I’m learning to move at my own pace, feet rusty but determined. Still here, a little bruised, a little quieter but kinder to themselves. And that? That's enough for today.