Scar Tissue

Open wounds hurt. They sting. They bleed. After a given time, they just stop though. Sometimes we bandage them up to help them heal faster, other times we let them breathe and hang out for the world to see what happened.

This can also be said for our emotional wounds. Whether it be a broken heart, the loss of a loved one, or even a rough time we’re going through, everyone handles their pain differently.

We drown ourselves in alcohol, therapy sessions, sad retail shopping, or the love of everyone around us; those are our bandages. And that is okay. Not everything can heal on its own.

Other times, we hold it in and suffer in silence. Which can be okay, too. Sometimes toxic, though.

Pain is only a temporary state of existence. Yes, time can heal all wounds, but time needs to have help and the patience for it to do it’s job.

The greatest part about flesh wound is, after they’ve stopped bleeding, stopped hurting, had their time to heal, they leave behind scars to remind us of a period in time. They remind us of where we’ve been.

Remember that time you were walking your friends dog and he got too excited and knocked you over?

Remember that time you were working, not fully paying attention, and knocked a pile of boxes on top of you?

Remember when you got in the middle of a dog fight?

Remember when you were playing your favorite sport, tore a ligament and had to have surgery?

When you were longboarding and ate shit on a hill?

Or the time you went camping and caught a burning marshmallow on your arm?

These are all points in your life leading up to your now. They’ve all helped to mold you into who you are in some way or another.

Some of these memories may still burn when you see the scar that came from it, but the best part about them?

Scar tissue fades, too.

A Story About Myself

Sometimes, I forget.

I forget the beauty in the moment of people caring for other people.

I forget people need the comfort of other people.

I’ve mainly done things by myself, even when I’ve been surrounded by people.

Loneliness has not always been an option for me; sometimes it was forced on me.

But I chose to make the most out of it.

There’s beauty to be found in the silence.

I keep a small, tight, loving, circle of friends.

For a long time, though, I didn’t feel rooted to home.

A home without roots isn’t a home.

When the opportunity to fly was handed to me, I took it and ran.

I ran 5 hours away from home.

I cried the morning I left for the first 3 hour drive.

I made a home in those 5 hours away, though.

There were people that took me in as their own; whose love knew no bounds.

They filled me with love and kindness.

But no matter how wanted I felt, the roots didn’t sprout there.

So I moved 3 hours away.

I knew going into this move that it would be hard, that it wouldn’t last.

There was a feeling going into it, but I tried to avoid it.

I met so many more wonderful people there.

People with history.

People that made me feel something magical.

Finding magic in a strange place is glorious.

When things got suffocating, I made a choice.

I decided to move 8 hours back home.

This was the 2nd time I had cried.

I felt my adventure was over.

I thought I had given up on all my dreams.

I set out to find new ones.

Then I met a boy.

He made me feel things, too.

And then things got toxic.

I lost him.

It helped me see I had fully lost the me I had built in the previous 4 years.

I reconnected with an old friend.

His energy and drive helped me get my spark back.

I found my roots in my self.

I am my own home.

Everyday’s an adventure.

People need other people.

But people need themselves, too.

If life had never happened to me, I never would be here to tell stories.

Even if the adventure went full circle.

It doesn’t matter where you start or where you end.

As long as you have some sort of support system, and if that support system includes yourself, you’re exactly where you need to be.