Thankfully Scarred

I thanked him for hurting me. I thanked him for making me attached. I thanked him for making me fall, especially into that pit. That pit full of promises and sincerity, – love in the making. Though he hurt me while I was hurting, I still thanked him. I don’t know why am I being emotionally thankful for the scars that he left.

Is it because we’re done playing? Is it because I was played again? Is it because another lesson was learned? Did I really learn something?  Is it because I am used to being left alone? Is it because I’ve experienced this so many times? Or maybe I just damaged my frontal lobe? 

I was scarred, but I couldn’t get angry. I just smiled as I utter my grateful speech.

I asked, how could I betray myself? How could I not love myself? How could I give more to him and spare less for myself? 

That night was bizarre. That was that night when I want to cling unto you but you didn’t want to. That was the night when I want to hold you for the last time but you refused. That was the night when we still confessed our mutual feelings, but we declined to be together. That was the night when we ended that thing with each other, even though it doesn’t exist yet. That was the night when we only stare at the dark, empty sky nourishing the presence of each other, knowing that it would be the last time. That was the night when you told me to stop hurting myself. That was the night when I realized that we’re just not enough for each other, but I still chose you. Unfortunately, you gave up too soon. Then, what am I supposed to do?

It’s so hard for me, as a woman. I don’t want to look so desperate. I don’t want to try too hard, so I chose being scarred instead.

It was oddly confusing, but I was thankfully scarred.

Scars

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