Some wounds linger forever
Time will heal. Or perhaps, not.
I have realized that there are wounds that remain untouched and staying forever in the deepest corners of my heart. The part of my heart I don’t want to acknowledge exists; I bury everything that has caused me pain deep within and refuse to remember.
Yet, they leave scars. Although these scars are unseen by the world, they never truly fade. I see them every time I open my shirt, and they haunt my thoughts and soul.
Most of the time, I don’t really remember what happened a week ago or two days ago. But when I recall the pain I felt years ago, it remains crystal clear in my mind. Every time I remember it, my eyes start to tear up, and once again, I start to blame myself.
It is funny to think how words can heal me easily. At the same time, it could also hurt me so damn bad until I bleed within.
I hear people say that I’m useless more often than I hear them say they’re proud of me.
Always a “You can do better next time,” never a “Thank you for doing your best.”
Always a “Who would want you if you look like this,” never a “You are enough just as you are.”
When I was a kid, I was already familiar with being compared to other kids. I thought I was doing well enough, but in reality, there were more children who were better than me. Even now, every time I do something and wonder if it’s the best I could do, I suddenly feel down and start to think that others can do it better than me.
I am proud of myself. Somehow, it’s just a blank phrase I use to calm myself momentarily. It feels like nonsense. It’s hard to be the only one proud of me. Some say I’m thirsty for validation. But I just know that being validated makes me feel like I’m enough.
I was and still am hurting. Hurt by words, hurt by people. It leaves an open wound within my chest that, until now, I haven’t found anything to close it with. As much as I have tried to forgive and forget everything that has happened, the pain remains raw and consuming. It feels like a piece of me was torn away, never to be replaced. I think there is no amount of time that could heal those wounds completely.
There were moments when I tried to bury the pain, to pretend that everything was okay, to put on a smiling mask and move on. But deep down, I knew that the wounds never truly heal.
They have become a part of me, shaping me into who I am today. They are always there, never forgotten. They remind me of moments I wish I could erase from my memory, moments that shattered my heart into a million pieces.
Some wounds indeed linger forever. Although they may never fully heal and no matter how painful it is knowing that I can’t erase them, these wounds, have also taught me resilience and strength. They are a part of me, yes, but they don’t define me.
For now, I consider every day is a step towards accepting myself, flaws and all, and understanding that my value is not determined by the words or actions of others. I’m learning to find solace in my own skin, to appreciate the journey I’m on.
And to believe that I am enough, just as I am
