“I've been tryna carry on; Down this road I'm on; Just don't look down, don't look down”

Shattered.

I stare at a blank screen only able to type one word, “shattered.”

Peter Chang mugshot

As I look at the spelling, I expect the letters to rearrange themselves into a pattern that makes sense. I want a dictionary definition bubble to appear over the word explaining the newfound nothingness that has become my personal hell. All that happens is the word begins to lose meaning.

I plug another word into its place – “Broken.” Then, “crushed.” Both are too simple. “Pulverized” insinuates ashes. A clean pile of a former thing. Pulverized doesn’t allow for jagged edges or a mess of puzzle pieces that no longer fit. Pulverized is clean.

Emotionally, I am not.

“Jolted” is just a moment in time, not the never-ending wakeful nightmare that rearranges my core into awkward shapes with each passing hour. Jolted doesn’t explain the absence of an appetite, inability to keep food in, or failure to achieve consistent restful sleep.

Functional, although it works, is too … formal. A toaster is functional. A human spirit should be more. Maybe gallant.

I’m not that. I’m operational and numb, graciously tying loose ends like shoelaces to prepare for an unfathomable trajectory. The imperceptible shield is not impermeable. Cracks begin to show. Tears flow unceremoniously transforming into an ugly cry. The flashes are unplanned and ghastly.

New-to-me shards of the story come to light, agitating the void. Stupefied I stare, unable to conceive basic truths.

I know this much: I am functional and shattered.

https://www.wwlp.com/news/crime/springfield-police-arrest-suspects-in-child-exploitation-prostitution-operations/