I used to hate the cracks in me.
Every mistake felt like a broken tile. Every "no" from life chipped off another piece.
I spent years trying to hide the gaps, painting over them like they never happened.
Then my aunty gave me an old mirror for my birthday.
Cracked down the middle. Held together with gold glue.
"This is kintsugi," she said. "Japanese art. They don’t throw broken things away.
They fill the cracks with gold. Because the breaking is part of the story."
That day I understood mosaic.
We’re not meant to be one perfect piece.
We’re fragments. Sharp edges, faded colors, missing corners.
Heartbreak here, win there, lessons everywhere.
But when you step back...
All those broken pieces make a picture more beautiful than anything flawless ever could.
So now when life cracks me, I don’t panic.
I reach for gold.
Courage. Coffee. 2am prayers. The friends who stay.
I’m a mosaic.
And every scar is just light trying to get in.
Images are AI generated ✨
