Spoken words

I lost myself for a while.
And maybe, in some ways, that was necessary.

I stood beneath the naked gaze of my reflection,
fresh and faded scars marking my skin,
telling the truth my voice once couldn’t.
Some were self-inflicted.
Others, I didn’t choose…
but I still carry them.

I am learning how to walk again,
and even my own steps feel unfamiliar.
For the first time,
I am no longer hiding.

The tired, war-torn version of me,
the one who carried me through the wilderness—
has stepped into the background.
And I am grateful
to finally lay down her heavy armor.

Truth, clear and unhidden.
Truth, even when it costs me.

I am no longer interested in anything that lives in shadows.
I want what is honest.
What is visible.
What does not have to hide to survive.

Learning to walk again
after breaking your bones and setting them right is hard.
Each step is new.
The ground meets your feet differently.

Like a child,
I am learning again,
seeing the world through new eyes.

I don’t want pieces.
I want whole.

I want to know,
and to be known in return.

I will never again settle for fragments of love,
not from others,
and not from myself.

Because nothing wounds
like abandoning yourself.

Healing has taught me this:
I had abandoned myself
more than anyone else ever had.

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