The future was one thing that could never be broken, because it had not yet had the chance to be anything.
To be unbroken, what would that be? If words that were spoken, had not shattered me
Dad would call it my Sisyphus toll. Push a boulder up a hill, pretending it’s okay, and come nightfall it - and I - come crashing down. But he forgets the view each time I make it to the top.