Accident, they say,
is something sudden,
unexpected.
But can every accident
truly be called an accident?
Some arrive quietly,
without crashing sounds,
without warning signs,
yet still destroy everything
you once believed.
Call it a fault,
a mistake,
a mishap-
call it whatever you wish.
All I know
is that it left something behind in me:
fear.
Not the kind
that disappears with daylight,
not the kind daylight can erase,
but the kind that lingers,
silent and heavy,
turning thoughts into worry
and silence into anxiety.
A fear
that feels endless.
It weighed on me so deeply
that even speaking of it
felt unbearable.
Yet maybe the only way
to escape fear
is to face it.
So what is this accident?
A change in my personality,
my behaviour,
my choices,
even my existence.
I call it an accident
because I never saw it coming.
It arrived with questions,
with shame,
and a sadness that slowly
empties the soul.
Not the change
I once hoped for,
not the kind that heals,
but the kind
that makes you unfamiliar
to yourself.
And maybe
not all changes are bad.
And maybe
some accidents
are just changes in disguise.
But what scares me most
is not what I lost-
it is what I became
while trying to survive it.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments of me
PoetryWhere silence speaks, fear lingers, and emotions find their way into words. A space woven with hidden thoughts, quiet battles, loneliness, change, and the pieces people rarely show the world. Some fragments ache. Some question. Some heal. Not every...
