the broken porcelain

I grow up in this one house... people see it as a broken one.
They know me as a child, from this broken relationship. A broken kid. 
Not that I care.
Growing up, I certainly didn't have everything I want.. just like any other usual kid in the world. Growing up, I did learn what it means being un-usual, being the kind of child who-own-a-broken-houses. It never really hurt me, growing up. Well, sometimes I really did crying. Feel the loneliness around me. The cold inside me. The un-usual things that make me didn't get what any other usual kid easily have, the one they unconsciously take for granted. I did really have envy sometimes, that me against the world kind of feeling, or the blame, or the pity-me-moment. But, all of that just little me.. growing up.
I did learn. And I did growing up. And I am grateful.
This whole me, the one some people still see as a broken porcelain, I did grateful for myself. Or that particular people I called home, the one who originally own that broken houses. The one with broken relationship.
Allah put me in that broken place with reason. There's always intention. And Allah intention.. there's always something emotionally beautiful in His mysterious-grand-plan. 
It wasn't an easy experience, growing up, nor the most difficult. It just, little me, being taught. Being loved.
Now, when being the-broken-porcelain thing start to give me headache, heartache and crawl-under-my-ignorant-kind-of-skin, I can only believe in Allah.
He owns me. He owns this whole world and the hereafter. He is the Owner of everything.
This broken-porcelain-skin that most parent find it ugly, this beyond-my-control things that starting to try to drag my contentedness away.. I won't let it win over me. It surely can hurt me. It surely did frustrate me. But, in Allah I seek guidance. In Him I seek protection.  And in praying Him I find tranquilness.