Scorched

The words that hurt the most don’t come from the people you love – it’s from yourself.

You never see yourself adequate nor perfect. Neither pretty nor bright. You shake off praises because you think its just a formality. You believe everyone has good, except you. In a day you can come up with 50 flaws and 0 strengths.

One day you begin to believe your words and they become etched in your brain. You see fire as friend, running it across your skin. It becomes a habit you have no control of, a burnt skin. You pick on the surface because you couldn’t bear the sight. You didn’t think it would be better.

A stranger comes and talks to you. A mere conversation, a “hello” and “how are you?”. It ended with a thought or two, about why it shouldn’t have ended here. You stop touching the burnt skin, and you move on. You start to forget the burn.

As time flies by, you become light on your feet, you feed yourself with only beautiful things. It begins to show on your face, your skin and your eyes. The scab you once picked on is starting to heal on its own, but it never really disappears. It serves as a reminder, how you fought and survived, your biggest enemy – yourself.

 

 

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