Some wounds just don’t heal. 

I have been grappling with something this week as I discussed in yesterday’s post. I haven’t lost my way perse, but I want to own my truths in the most real way. I choose to do it here. Something here feels lonely and unheard but heard even though it is a public blog. 

Walking with the familiar sites and people rushing about. You know two things are happening around you. You are surrounded by people who have their lives and hands emmersed daily in life changing moments. It is a swap of moments filled with purpose and trepidation and for me memories. 

Surrounded by beeps, machines and a sense of worry in the air. It almost smells of the concentration of a dreams and hopes on the verge of collapsing. Ask me what that smell smells like and I would tell you. I don’t know, but you know it when you smell it. 

This space doesn’t look all the different. In fact, some of the faces are the same. They may hold different personalities or bodies, but their smell. That fear… it is all the same. My knees felt weak. A moment in the elevator a kid smiled and I smiled back hiding what my mind is really saying. I am pretty sure that moment is a repeat too. Repeat and repeat.

But I did it. I didn’t do it because I had to. I did it because life does move on. I did it for love. Love of another, because my love was needed in that moment and because I needed to give that love. None of it was easy, nor will it ever probably be. But I did it, I let love win even if some scars never heal. 


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