Healing is supposed to hurt. Your wounds are bleeding all over the place. Growing red hues puddling so loudly you swear it’s an ocean. Watch it form crop circles in the floor. Time to get the stitches and sew you shut- it’ll hurt, I promise. Healing means getting better, but you need to understand how the damage will change you. Raised edges around the scar and purple shades line your skin like mountain tops. But you’re the terrain and you get to decide what stays buried on your land. You decide what stays tucked away deep in your bones. You decide how to live with it. Feel it twist you from the inside out to show the world every corner of your universe. It’s a sticky act of mercy. But at least you’re still you. Surrendering to yourself is the greatest act of mercy. Breathing and being and feeling- but at least you’re still feeling something right? Tell me you believe it. Tell me you’ll eat it up like a prayer. Tell me how you plan to wear your scars like a fucking trophy for everyone to see. Did you feel a sense of finality crash through you? You’re living, after all. Let that feeling soak through every fucking pore, even if it stings. -AMT©️