it has been nearly two years since i found the strength to leave. my heart and soul have settled in to their new life of happiness, kindness, caring and peace. the cuts have healed, the scars remain.
scars tell a story.
i have a scar on my big toe, it’s story is one of summertime camping, a boy at the campground, me being tough and riding my bike without a care, focused on keeping up with the boys, wiping out, not wanting to cry, because i thought i was supposed to be super tough. i have scars from surgeries, a dog bite, burns, each one carries its own story.
i also have scars that no one can see, just like my visible scars, these carry their own stories as well. a word, a voice, a threat.
i’d rather have my scars than the cuts. they’ve healed. i’ve healed, but i’ll never forget the moments behind them.
it’s been nearly two years since i started the healing process. everything begins with a moment, and that was mine. i found my soothing salve, i found kindness and love.
those scars remind me of how a person should never be treated, and a way that i will never again feel.