Fragments of a broken heart...

Pieces of a heart lie around my room. Of course, the room is a metaphor and the pieces of heart are really the last remnants of my dignity. Is there really such a person that exists - that does not qualify for respect? Even a dirty, world-weary dog that lives off the garbage on the side of a township road has the respect of any person walking down that same road. In their heads they are thinking: "Shame, that poor dog. What kind of life does she live? How does she survive?" and then the next logical conclusion is that that dog is worthy of respect because of the life that she lives.

There is so much dignity in the eyes of those dogs. So much strength. But then I look at the children on the side of the street and in their eyes exists the same expression. It speaks of many nights spent under the stars, no matter what the weather... You would think that there would be no self-respect. I mean, they see affluent students, walking back and forth from town to campus, in warm clothes. Clean clothes. Dry clothes.

They don't pity themselves. It may be a ploy that they use in order to obtain money from said students, but really, it is just a ploy. If I were them then I would feel quite proud of the fact that I can survive in the streets. That I can, at the age of 11, feed myself and protect myself.

But now I am thinking that I am not those street-children. I don't fend for myself. I don't even make any attempt to protect myself. I let God do that. At least in that I can say that I am following a Great Warrior. As for the rest of my feelings of self-respect (or lack thereof)... they exist not. And I'm not even trying to be poetic about it. It's true. The question is, do I experience this lack because I feel that there are people who don't respect me, or are they there because I don't respect myself? And if I don't respect myself in the first place would that be the reason as to why some people don't respect me?

It's a tricky subject... I'm not sure. Tonight I tried to gain some self-respect. It blew up in my face. Did I do it wrong? Or was there never a way that that person would respect me anyway? Oh well... Time to take control of my life. Time to take action.

Time for me to sleep.