And in the end I came to realize that I was just as broken as all of them. All the people I tried tirelessly to put back together again, was nothing more than a selfish pursuit to somehow make myself feel whole again.

She searched for his face in crowds where he'd never be, in places that he'd never seen. In her mind he was everywhere haunting her. Her emptiness was beyond heartache, it was a well played tragedy.

Loving her was a labyrinth of entanglement. Just when you felt you were breaking through, she would dissipate, leaving you grieving for something that never was. She felt destroyed, so she destroyed; it was a wrenching existence where everyone endured.

And although she had been broken, shattered beyond repair, to me she had transformed to mosaic. A beautiful array of mismatched pieces, perfectly placed back together again.

He loved her because she was just as lost as him. Most search for a compass to lead them home, he ached for a like wanderer to travel his broken path.

At times she felt crazed, like a lost wanderer traveling a path that led her anywhere but home.