I saw the quote “I feel like the more I get to know someone, the less they love me” and it inspired what follows.
When you see my scars, will I still look the same?
Not just the scars on my arms, but the permanent indents left on my psyche.
The scars caused by neglect, abandonment, pain, and abuse.
Does telling you of my past make your abandonment more likely?
When I pull away and have moments I can’t stand to be touched, will I be someone you can no longer use?
How can I be of benefit to you?
Do I have to stand by entirely mute?
Would you like a show where I focus solely on you?
Where I place myself on the back burner like I’m told to do?
Where I dim my light to help yours shine?
No thank you. Not this time.
I had to repair what I didn’t break. My heart, my soul, my mind. The scars etched in my skin and soul are my form of Kintsugi. I did the best I could with what I had at the time. I am not responsible for the damage, just the reparations made.
I’m not sorry if the way I survived doesn’t look how you think it should have. I’m not sorry if the endings I chose don’t align with your ideal life.
And before you say that I’m damaged, know that I’m not. “Damaged” would insinuate that there is a specific way I should be. I’m not made to fit your definition of perfect.
However, if knowing of my past makes you walk away because you think I’m damaged, then perhaps you are far more tarnished than I am. My past made me kinder, patient, understanding, generous, and less judgmental but somehow MY past makes people walk away. I don’t tell people my story to make them carry it, I tell them to give them the opportunity to understand. If my vulnerability and knowing me is such a burden, then I’m glad that you won’t accept the privilege of loving me.
