We keep
walking into love again, without cauterizing the wounds of our
previous heartbreaks. This is why loving again feels like salt
on open wounds. This is why trusting again feels like old
deceit and betrayal exhumed.
Not everyone is okay with living like an open wound. But the
thing about open wounds is that, well, you aren’t
ignoring it. You’re healing; the fresh air can get to
it. It’s honest. You aren’t hiding who you are.
You aren’t rotting. People can give you advice on how
to heal without scarring badly. But on the other hand there
are some people who’ll feel uncomfortable around you.
Some will even point and laugh. But we all have
wounds.
Sometimes things come out of your mouth that you regret later
on. Or no, not regret. You say something so razor-sharp that
the person you say it to carries it around with them for the
rest of their life.
I want some kind of reminder
that while wounds heal, they don’t disappear forever
– I carry them everywhere, always, and that is the way of
things, the way of scars.