How do you deal with the past when the wounds from the past continue to knock on your door and refuse to let it bury away?
What can you do besides running and hide all your might and pray that these pasts never caught up to you?
I never knew this part of me lingers until it’s up again.
I never knew that it’s never properly healed.
I never knew my eyes still have emotions of its own.
I thought I have buried it so deep inside that no one will ever see it again or even myself.
I thought it never had to see the light of day.
I thought I have moved on to another sphere of emotions that these child’s plays are no longer my play.
How wrong was I to assume that I was strong when all I had was a presumptuous sense of self, assuming all is good.
When life was tough all I had was determination; lots of it to weather the storm that came at me mercilessly, relentlessly, pounding away and perhaps wish I was beaten and never got up again.
I thought that was the end of me.
I thought when it all ended, it’s the end of me.
A huge chunk of my life was robbed away, what used to pulsate does not anymore.
It’s as if it has forgotten the rhythms it used to beat at.
It has stopped, withered and died when you left.
I, no longer feel the need to beg for mercy or compassion.
I promised myself there won’t be another.
I promised myself that I won’t allow myself to go through it again.
The wound may not close but the heart is.
It no longer beat for what it used to.
In its place, it has found something else that will make it beat again.
No longer will it lies awake waiting.
It will no longer wait anymore.