Why I am sitting here crying over a phone

It's a Sunday night and I am sitting here crying  over  a stupid headphone jack. I have the newest up to date phone, a Galaxy s6. I just replaced my old phone with a broken screen because it was easier and cheaper now to buy a new one. Yet, every new and innovative feature makes me angry. It's as if I am up against a brick wall each time. I honestly can't stand it.

Now here I am thinking, this is my life.

This phone was supposed to be easier, better, faster, and far more convenient. It was supposed to make me forget all about my broken phone and be excited again. But my old phone was loved. It had seen great things and pain but it was mine. It supported me where I needed it and I used it for everything. It never let me down, it simply shattered to peices.

Now holding this new piece of shiny glass and metal I am sobbing. Because I realize, as I am sure you have by now, that these phones are merely a representation of my life, the galaxy around me.

My life has had many twists and turns but by there has been such beauty through the lens. It has served me well and is what makes up so much of me. Recently, this world of mine shattered. Peices are everywhere. They are being held together with tape. But tape doesn't stay forever and as it starts to fade the jagged edges of glass from the million shattered peices poke through the surface and cut into my heart.

It hurts. So now I need to find a new life.

I continue on with a similar life, a similar galaxy, but this time newer, better, fresher, and yet less real.

In all the upgrades, the new job, the new titles, the new clothes and even the new attitude; I have lost what makes me feel.

The core. The memories. And even the silly way we listen. They are all different. I am all different.  I have painted over the broken, the shattered, the real.

But it can't hide what I see when I catch a glimpse of that old life, that old galaxy. I see love and I see pain, I see the reflection of me in shattered glass. And that is the realest me I have seen in awhile.

I am broken. Flecks of me scrape free and cut those around me deep. The raw, the real, the wounded. It will take a lot to repair, to heal,

but it can be done.

It simply takes the commitment to live through the broken and work towards a healing of my galaxy, my world. One with all the memories and all of the scars, but that is whole and made new.