Saturday, 29 December 2018


That thing with life, despite the smiles, the laughter and the moments of crazy mirth and madness, is that we all have scars. Some admittedly beautiful, upon our skin and upon our very bodies, with tender fingertips running along all of them, lips kissing them, trying to show that we care and that the moment is done, over with, resolved, yet within each of us remains the other type of scar.

We’re alive, living, surviving, grasping onto whatever and whomever we can find to sedate the thoughts within each and every single one of us. The tender balance, the moments where we show that little sliver of pain, all hidden behind the masks of our smile. Smile away, laugh until you can hardly breath, tell every single person that you love them, but deep within there’s that place where we hide so much.

We have scars. Parts of us, each of us, ripped apart and sewn together again with whatever we can fashion from the very moment we exist within. A hand, a body, a few words, an emotion filled kiss or a great big cry for help, we survive as that’s truly what we want to do. Never give up, never fall or, at least, sail the seven emotions of the sea within each of us until we reach the shore of safety.

I believe. I understand. I can ‘feel’ the scars all around me. Within the eyes of the people I care for, within the smiles of the people that I've never met, upon all the doubts and fears of the people holding onto their broken souvenirs. Shattered, recovered, never replaced, yet clinging on to the scraps of whatever we can find. We’re surviving, we’re living, we’re proof that no matter what happens we can carry on. No matter the scar, no matter how deep something cuts, we know that it’ll be okay.

The cuts from another, the words that hurt, the silence that suffocates, all mingled together with our own blades willingly cutting into us with words of dissatisfaction. A frenzy of self-doubt, striving to break us into small little slices of pain. Ignore them. Ignore the words. You've been there, we've been there, we've lost, while living, we've trusted, while falling, we've forgiven, yet obviously never forgotten any single part. We’re the sum of our scars. We’re the understanding of our lives. You let someone touch you, you let another within your reach, you risk the scars of life.

I love all of it. With each scar I'm learning, I'm living, while reaching a place where I have no choice but to heal. Heal yourself, struggle, climb, grasp, break the very nails upon your fingers and drag yourself through that scar. It’ll hurt, you’ll bleed, you’ll suffer like you've never suffered before, but I tell you this, I state the words, that you will become stronger than you've ever been. I understand, I appreciate, that there will always be drawbacks to having a scar, but that’s the beauty of healing. You can reminisce, relive, recall that experience and hopefully, gradually, learn to stand within a better place within your life.

The souvenirs, the spectacle of you, the offerings that you possess, are so very, very special. We’re floundering vessels of energy, the impulses of our hearts smashing into each other every single day. You’re bound to be broken, you’re bound to become bruised and battered. It’s inevitable. No matter how strong you are, no matter how tough the skin upon your feelings, eventually, profoundly, you’ll fall under the spell of another. Words are not just words. They’re intentions, they’re magical as well as mayhem. Fall. Touch the ground. Cry as much as you like, but when it’s all over, you’ll rise and proudly proclaim, in silence, that you have another scar.

Behold the moments, embrace the change, smile at the sadness and touch the very scar within your soul with your lips. We’re love, we’re more than what we believe we can be, we’re connected in ways that we're only barely understanding. Hold the hand of the most scar filled person you know and you’ll find an energy, a wealth of knowledge that should be held so very, very close. We’re beautiful, we’re a poetic mystery of words and moments. We’re the sum of scars internally and externally.

No matter what happens next, no matter how I feel or who we become, I'm holding my own scars as close to my heart as possible. They’re understanding, they’re gifts, they’re keeping me alive and, most of all, I am and always will be, my scars.

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