yesterday, i saw one of my standing regrets downstairs. looking at it in the eye again made me realize how i cannot be more intelligent than the pounding sounds of the heart. more than ever, I felt fragile.
i used to think that the strongest people are those who easily let go as necessary. no, I don't mean just of people; but of fears, worries, regrets and everything that needs letting go. but then again, who can judge strength based on these ideals?
as much as I'd like to let go, i linger. the pain needs to be remembered as detailed as possible, so when I look back, moving on will make more sense. this is strength for me now; enduring.
scars breathe and never die. they're always there, like the moon that follows you home each night. then like a random thought of scars, i write these all in my head while i watch the needles sink into my skin.
there is always that one perfect thing you had to let go for the shallowest reasons. regrets, just like scars, are breathing. they're snapshots of pleasant misgivings and miscalculated chances taken.
but they live on. like blood that blots the ink.
