Thinking back —
At 6 years old, we may not even remember what we did wrong.
At 14 years old, we can chalk it up to our naivety and lack of perspective, lack of empathy. We can grow up and say ‘Oh! How stupid was I at that age?’ or ‘I wouldn’t have done that if I was older.’
And that’s the thing.
At 20, there’s no excuse. We see and feel more — the very few things that we cherish as we grew older become that much more important to us. And situations around us become so much more.. real, making consequences that much heavier. The impact of it hits at fuller force, like a wielding blade through your soul.
When you have wounds, you have scars.
Sometimes your hand itches to pry it up, and when you do, it burns, it bleeds, you go back to square one. And then as you do that over time, the scab that grows over it becomes thicker and hardens, like a protective shield over that wound.
This episode sliced harder than I thought it would. Simply because the scab was there once and now it was ripped away again.
We just got to move on. (or more like I’ve got to move on) Scars are there because of the unfortunate events that we’ve went through and experienced, they are there to remind us not to be the very things that hurt us. They culture empathy and protectiveness, so that we know not to treat others and let them suffer the same kind of vulnerability.
We move on stronger, hopefully, and pray that someday these scars fade into nothingness,
like we’ve been reborn.