We are the soft chaos, the quiet strength.
A club for the ones who’ve been broken, yet still choose to bloom.
Sad Broken Girls Club — beautifully undone, endlessly becoming.

Sad Broken Girls Club was created as a way to survive my own emotions — to give shape to what I couldn’t explain, to turn all the things I lost into something that could still mean something. It’s part journal, part art project, part quiet scream into the abyss.

Sad Broken Girls Club is a digital diary of unfiltered, raw emotion — fragments of art, haunting imagery, and creative yet thoughtful content, stitched together with heartache and vulnerability. It’s not about perfection; it’s about feeling everything deeply and turning pain into art.

Welcome to a community for the broken and beautifully bruised. Through poetry, photos, and any form of art, we aim to capture the raw, tender edges of all kinds of heartbreak — transmuting pain into something melancholy yet honest, and relatable.

This is a space for the soft, the shattered, and the searching. Together we weave poetry, imagery, and emotion into art — where sadness isn’t something to hide, but something to hold and care for. I can’t love someone else if I don’t even know how to love or take care of myself.

Here, I pour out the pieces I don’t know how to carry and words that can’t be said. This platform is my love letter and confession to Life. Through poems, photos, and fragments of creativity— soft, broken, pure and honest. I hope by sharing my pain, it opens the doors for others to open up as well.

This is a vulnerable and raw collection of what’s left after the heartbreaks, failures and breakdowns. Art is my way of making sense of pain — one photo, one verse, one ache at a time. This is my open wound turned into art. A place where I can write what I can’t say out loud — through photos, poetry, and moments that hurt in quiet ways.

This platform is built from heartbreak and survival. It’s where I document what it means to simultaneously feel too much yet feel numbness and emptiness, it can only express through words, stills, and silence that speaks.

This is where I leave the pieces of myself, my past, my worries for the future and the pain that I can’t carry alone anymore hoping to heal the broken fragments of myself. By writing I allow myself the space and time to process the pain. It’s not about being okay; it’s about being raw, vulnerable and honest.

Sad Broken Girls Club lives in between pain and beauty. It’s where I confess, rant, create, and try to find meaning in what’s left behind. This is how I convert my pain into art and poetry — this is a place for the ache that never quite fades, it is where I allow myself to hurt and be free to feel sadness.

Through this platform I aim to convert negativity into creative designs, images and verses. This is where I unravel quietly — turning heartbreak, betrayal, and abandonment into something that lives and breathes far beyond our time on Earth.

I created the Sad Broken Girls Club as a place to be my unfiltered, most vulnerable self and to share the poetry, images, and emotions that live in the quiet corners of darkness. It’s a confession, a reflection, and a reminder that brokenness can still be beautiful. Even though it hurts to heal.

This is an open journal — a space where I turn the ache in my chest into words, I can never say. Through poetry I explore the ache of being human — the beauty in breaking, the depth in feeling too much, the pain of growing up and leaving the heavy past behind.

Sad Broken Girls Club is a safe space. It’s where I document what it means to fall apart again and again and still find beauty in the brokenness and starting all over again. By expressing myself through all kinds of art, I slowly heal, let go and move towards a future filled with peace, forgiveness and self love.

KILLING TIME

No matter how hard we try, we will never truly find the answers we are looking for. Sometimes, as sad as it may be – by the time we find it we no longer remember why we what it was we were even looking for.

There’s no such thing as finding all the missing pieces, much less putting them together. We’re lucky enough if we are able to find temporary fillers to hide all the holes, to keep us from remembering how numb and empty we truly are inside.

Time is a waiting game. You give it your all throughout, only to learn that you only played to lose. Winning was never even an option. Only little glimpses of it, they encourage you to go on, to fill you with hope and determination.

All of it just so that you would keep playing the game, because the idea of winning beats the actual prize. Don’t question the rules, don’t look within for clues. Despite what we may think, the Game we all play in is made perfectly- so that we see, exactly what they want us to see.

All the components of the Game were carefully crafted to carry out its purpose. It is only in the players where we will find the missing pieces and errors that were never corrected. Society puts efficiency above everything else.

In the end, there was no real reason behind our beginning. No true purpose we were meant to live out. We are supposed to create our own purpose to continue living. One will never see it to the end, for the answers to our questions can never be answered.

The truth is that, nothing that is completely true. Nothing will ever make complete sense, because the truth is that in the end. All we are left with are fragments of what was whole. We’re simply the missing pieces of the wrong puzzle.

Sad Broken Girls Club isn’t really a club — it’s a feeling. It’s the 2 a.m. kind of loneliness that makes you turn to vices just to make it hurt a little less.

It’s a long and painful journey where I need to collect the broken pieces of myself I’ve lost along the way. This is where words spill out of me because of heartbreak. Photos that freeze a moment before it fades, the quiet videos that speak when I can’t.

This space is personal. It’s vulnerable. It’s for all the versions of me (and whoever sees this) — that are still learning how to manage the sadness without shame. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is admit that we’re still broken, and somehow, that’s okay.