Reading this (or trying to read it) feels like tuning a radio: static, then a clear voice saying, "You were never broken" — then static again. The fragments are beautiful but deliberately disjointed. One page reads like a journal entry from 3 a.m.; the next, a letter to a future self; another, a blank page with a coffee stain and the word "breathe" handwritten.
Somewhere between memoir, self-help, prose poetry, and a whispered late-night confession, I Was Never Broken exists — or rather, resists existing. The act of searching for it across "all categories" becomes the real story. Is it mental health literature? Autobiographical fiction? Spiritual manifesto? The book’s ghost refuses a single shelf. Searching for- I Was Never Broken in-All Catego...
★★★★☆ (4/5) — but only if you stop trying to fit it into a box. Searching for "I Was Never Broken" is less a book you read and more a mirror you argue with. In all categories, it’s none. In all honesty, maybe that’s exactly where healing lives. If you have the actual full title/author or more context, I can tailor a more accurate and detailed review. Reading this (or trying to read it) feels
Here’s an interesting, slightly unconventional review based on that evocative fragment: By a restless reader Somewhere between memoir, self-help, prose poetry, and a