My most haunted and beautiful moments were not in the times I was most strong, I have endured battles of the physical, mental and spiritual kind and they mean nothing to me. I’d fight them all again without fear, they taught me ought else but rigidity and harshness.
The moments I treasure most and gave me the ultimate strength of character, resolve, bravery and poise in the face of devils are the ones where I was most fragile.
From them came my art, came my brutality, came my savagery and came my subtlety.
Words flowed when I was broken, not mended.
My soul developed when I was downtrodden not when I was upright.
My heart grew fonder when it was annulled not when it was coveted.
My body became stronger when I fasted, not when I ate.
My ego was destroyed when I starved it, not when I gave it what it desired.
Brute strength served it’s purpose but the real strength came through fragility, that’s how I elevate in learning and understanding.
Be fragile, be vulnerable, let your guard down, everyone can fight, but learning to take the blows is what makes beauty.
-W.E.
lonerloaner 
Reblogged this on Wishing in Wonderland and commented:
Exactly what I have in mind…there are times I feel like this and this is aptly how to describe it. Lonerloaner wrote a very beautiful description. It only means being broken is not an ugly thing, it is a thing of beauty
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