Healing means being continuously broken,
until one day you find yourself unexpectedly getting back up.

It’s not cute,
or aesthetic,
it’s hurtful.

Those nights in the bathroom floor where you finally release the tension of unshed tears.
That one time you shamefully texted your friend “I relapsed”.

The scars of my arms are checkpoints of both victories and losses.
They all cary immense weight of battles I was too weak to fight.
Images of memories I will never be able to erase.

Sometimes healing means being afraid yet doing it anyway.
Pushing forward without a reason whatsoever.

It’s messy,
inconsistent,
and painful.

But life is simply an everlasting journey of healing, growing.
The best part of life is exactly that— growth.
The constant journey of becoming better than who we were yesterday.

But if you don’t heal what hurt you,
you’ll bleed on people who didn’t cut you.