I am a map. I have a few destinations marked on myself.
I have one on my forehead from when I slipped and fell when I was five. I remember that I bled so much that my white shirt turned red.
I have one on my forehead yet again from when some boys in my flat building threw rocks at me just for fun. I was about 7. My skull is still deformed from it.
Another one from when I fell off my bike when I was 13 or 14. It’s on my right knee and it took forever to heal. It feels numb to the touch now.
One on my left wrist from when I put out a cigarette to prove a point to someone I once cared for. It’s always there to remind me of how stupid I am for caring too much.
The last one I can think of is in the palm of my left hand from when I stabbed myself by accident. The pain was bizarre, numb and sharp at the same time. You can barely spot it now.
All those are just wounds of the flesh though and not so severe to be worth making a big fuss over them.
Other destinations, much more relevant to what I have become, are those marked not through wounds of the body, but through wounds of the intellectual and emotional nature. Harm caused by fellow humans. I’ve had my share of disappointment and heartache, but in the end it was all for the best. My only regret is not being able to help my mother in all the years of her continuous torment. It’s also hurtful that I’ve been mostly lonely though never alone throughout my life.
I’ve met someone this January. I’ve opened myself up to her because she is honest, gentle, passionate, understanding, bright and beautiful in more ways than she will ever admit. When she is near I feel like home, like I belong, something that I never thought I would find again after being constantly let down by others. She makes me smile even in the rainiest days and makes me feel loved. I miss her often if not always. When I am with her my passions burn bright. I dream of seeing the world with her. I love her eyes and their fire. We’ve planned to do a lot together; small things that have always been out of reach before. She works so hard and is ever so dear to me. I remember how she would smile when spring came; it made me so happy seeing her filled with joy when she would see the flowers in bloom. She’s not perfect, as she tends to remind me often, but none of us are. She’s mine and the closest thing to the sweetheart I’ve always yearned for(if not a dream come true). She let her past cause me some heartache and I was surprised to see how much it affected me even though I’ve known her for so little time. This was ultimate proof of how special she really is to me. I rarely shed tears for people, but then again she is not like most people. She might even be the devil herself, because she’s too wonderful to be true some times. She’s got her flaws and fears and failures, but I’m always happy to stand by her side and hold her through the hardship. She accepts me the way I am, even though I can be a huge pain in the ass some times. I always want to get to know her better, because I find her uniquely interesting. I hope that she will never change and she hopes that I’ll stay the same as well. Up to this point in time she’s always been there for me and I know that I am truly lucky-Jackpot!
There have been times when I really wished I’d known her a long time ago.
I wish I could have been there when she felt abandoned.
I wish I could have been there when she felt left out.
I wish I could have been there when she was scared.
I wish I could have been there when she needed an extra buck for a pair of earrings she wanted, but couldn’t afford.
I wish I could have been there when her mom fell ill.
I wish I could have been there when others let her down or broke her heart.
I wish I could have been there when she needed someone the most.
These are the scars I wish you didn’t have to bear alone.
If you’re reading this, I miss you still, cuz I’m a crazy fuck like always.