The Battle I Won

The Battle I Won

No one ever saw my scars; only you. I struggled so hard coping with the new, puffy marks on my back and down my abdomen. They represented pain. They represented never going back to who I was before the emergency surgeries. You told me they were not even noticeable. You told me that I was still beautiful even with the cuts. Somehow your words felt powerless; unable to heal the pain of a vulnerable year.

I was afraid for him to see them.

But then he saw them, and in his eyes, I saw that it wasn’t about whether I was still beautiful with forever gashes across my body. It was about the life I had to live in order to wear those scars proudly.

That’s when I realized what we were always missing; I did not need someone to call me beautiful. I needed someone to see my battle scars and know the wars I fought to be alive with them that night.

I needed someone to see me, really see me, beneath my skin and temporary home, and recognize my soul.

The Different Loves

The Different Loves

The Gasp Of Survival

The Gasp Of Survival