nothing seems real anymore

Roads. Driving. Life. It's all connected, it's all a metaphor. You drive your life on the road it's suppose to go. You are either a good driver which means you haven't done anything more than worse than the driver behind you that may drink or have the pain from a past that can't be cured, so therefore it would mean their a bad driver, due to their mistakes. But are we really going to let a metaphor determine how we are , and whether or not we're a good or bad driver? Just because someone is a bad driver in a metaphorical way does not by any chance mean that the mistakes they have made are worth chasing them down for. Mistakes are what makes us a human. They strip us down, let us feel the emotional pain that will determine how we turn out. If you take pain fine, then what does that mean? Does it mean that you can go through life with a smile on your face and know that pain is deep but never feel it? Does it mean that you will never let the mirror break? What if one day the mirror did break? Those tiny pieces will break, and you will no longer be the strong person everyone thought you were. I strive to believe that when those pieces of glass do break, that means you're the stronger person ever. The pieces mean that you can take the fall, and get right back up without knowing what just happened. It means that no matter what, you know how pain feels. You can take the worse, and turn it around to make the better days appear. The rain doesn't phase you, the sun will always come out. Even when the skies are gray every day, the sun somehow appears. It's like nothing will ever come that you can't take. You are the strongest person in the world. But, there are some people who break and never face the pieces. They never go in the room that has all the glass thrown on the floor. Their afraid of getting cut even more they have already been cut. Those pieces of glass hurt them more than knowing that the pieces are broken. Some people can't even find their way out of the room, their stuck looking at the pieces on the floor. Their looking at what makes them who they are, all spread out on the floor. How does that person walk out of that room and not get cut? How do they turn the skies blue and let the sun in? How do they move on from something that made such an impact on so many people? The pain will never go away, the past is the past. Mistakes were made, and people walked away. Life is a road, sometimes you crash. You crash so hard that you lose yourself and you'll never be the same ever again.