I was born and I was whole. See, but then I grew and I began to learn. The more I grew the more I realized. Then I got a cut. I thought that like other cuts it would go away. It, however, was quite persistant. Soon it bled, and then once i felt better, it began to close. Sure over the years it broke open and bled again, always to heal, but always to scar. Then I really started learning and the more the cut reopened and bled, and less and less it healed.
One day, before I could stop it, it ripped open and I couldnt control it anymore. In an explosion of pain, I realized this would not heal at all, or at least not before alot of pain. I couldnt do anything, I couldnt say anything, just stand and wait. Trying to be as unemotional as possible in the face of my attacker.
Then I let go, and slowly but surely the cut began to close, it began to heal. So slowly. So slowly I feared that something else would come to kick me when Im down. Yes, there were bumps and the potholes of life cropped up, but no damage too extensive.
And then, without warning, the healing took off. The end was in sight, I knew I'd be whole again.
Or so I thought.
Blow after blow, the cuts just kept coming. I couldnt stop them, and I thought, foolishly, Id be ok. As long as I had what I knew I needed, Id be ok. This hole, this wide gaping burning hole refuses to close. Suddenly it starts to open more. I struggle to hold myself together. Thank god I hold fast.
Ok bad moment, its healing, but with less reassurance. it wants to close, to heal, to scar, but its afraid to waste its time if another attack is coming. My body, like me, cant see the future.
So warily it heals. I dont have to hold on.
I'll just keep on keeping on because its all I was ever good at anyway.
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