Fractured Creatures: Plato’s Philosophy on the Human Soul

I took Plato’s idea that we are fractured creatures and ran with it.

And just like that, this article was born.

I’m not a philosopher. I don’t wear robes or sit under olive trees debating the meaning of life. But I have lived. I have cried. I have questioned everything I thought I knew and that has to count for something.

Because life? Life has a way of breaking you open. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes all at once. Some of us are walking around held together by memory, by hope, or by nothing more than the will to keep going.

Plato believed we were once whole, complete beings. But the gods, fearing our power, split us in two. Ever since then, we have been searching for the parts we lost. We look for them in people, in purpose, in moments that make us feel seen. I have always loved that idea. Not just for what it says about love, but for what it says about being human.

Because the truth is, we all walk around with cracks.

Some are visible. Some are buried so deep under routine and performance that even we forget they are there. But the fractures remain heartbreaks we have tucked away, childhood wounds we never got therapy for, decisions we can’t undo, people we have lost, versions of ourselves we had to let go of so we could keep living.

We are all fractured creatures but that doesn’t mean we are broken.

And that’s the part we often forget.

We spend so much of our lives trying to hide our cracks, to present the version of ourselves that looks “whole.” We post polished photos. We say “I’m fine” even when we are not. We build entire lives on foundations we no longer believe in because the world told us that wholeness looks like perfection.

But maybe, just maybe, wholeness is something else.

Maybe it’s not about fixing everything. Maybe it’s not about pretending the fracture never happened. Maybe it’s about learning to live with it. Learning to breathe through the scar. Learning to find beauty in the jagged lines.

Some days you will feel like a mosaic, pieced together by force, yes, but still whole. Still a work of art. Other days you will unravel, and that’s okay too. Because, healing isn’t linear  and wholeness isn’t a destination. It’s a practice.

It’s choosing to keep showing up in your truth, even when you feel a little messy inside.

It’s choosing softness in a world that expects you to be hard. 

It’s letting someone see the part of you that’s still healing, and not apologizing for it.

It’s remembering that no one, not one person, is truly whole.

We are all just figuring it out.

You are not late.
You are not behind.
You are just human.

Related read: Do you have a flight or fight response to situations? 

So here’s what I hope you carry with you:

Your cracks don’t disqualify you.
Your past doesn’t define you.
Your softness is not your weakness.
Your becoming may be slow, but it will be worth it.
You are still becoming.

Let the light in. Let the pieces stay.

Let the gold run through your broken edges like Kintsugi, the Japanese art of mending broken pottery with gold.

Not to hide the cracks, but to highlight them.

Because you are not less because of the fracture.
You are more.

You have lived.
You have loved
You have kept going.

And that is breathtaking.

We are all fractured creatures.
And that’s what makes us real.
That’s what makes us human.
That’s what makes us beautiful.