Saturday, May 18, 2013

Bloodied Footprints

There are many people in this world. Some make you happy, others bring you down. Some continually aggrieve and spite you, whether intentionally or not. But it is known that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. The lacerations on your heart are there; they are present and they are very real. Sometimes a wound would heal, slowly but surely. Other wounds are constantly reopened and never heal properly. What do you do then? Do you defend yourself and push away the knife that keeps coming and know that as the knife changes direction it is headed straight for the other person? Or do you stay silent and let it slash you open, thinking that one of you hurting is better than two?

Then there comes a moment when you are sick of hurting, sick of bleeding, and sick of sobbing. The last time you were stabbed made a gash so huge that it bleeds and bleeds and you lie there, quite unable to breathe. You want proper closure; you want to let it heal. And for a wound to heal, it must be kept apart from the things that could hurt it, things that could impede recovery. So you make the choice to pack up and move out, knowing that as you walk out the door, you are leaving behind the knife and its enraged owner. You walk out with your back turned because you don’t want your tears to be seen. You make the painful choice to leave, to heal, because deep down, you care. After all those years, how could you not care? You walk away because you care enough not to turn those years into years of victim and victimiser. You care that the knife’s owner does not become another person that you associate with pain and fear. You don’t want that. You care.

The knife is flung repeatedly in your direction, but you are no longer vulnerable. The wound begins to heal on its own and no new wounds are made. A scar begins to form, and it means that there is recovery, and that new tissues will grow in place of the old and torn.

That’s when the knife’s owner will realise that the knife no longer works. The knife will disappear when it is of no use. And with the knife gone, so perhaps will the reasons why it was picked up in the first place; the reasons why it was chosen to inflict hurt, to jolt a response.

Someday when all the wounds are healed, and the scars are no longer tender, then you can shake hands and laugh again and run along the open beaches. You can tell each other stories of the dinosaurs and the monkeys and argue over each other’s fashion sense. But you know that for that to happen, you both need to heal. The lacerations are unseen in each other’s hearts, but they are present and they are very real. So tonight you sit here, hurting and knowing that the both of you hurt. And until both of you finish hurting and start healing, you must make the first painful step to walk away before you become pain itself.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Witches Abroad

People think that stories are shaped by people. In fact, it's the other way around.