Throughout our path on these long windy road of life, we’ve made so many choices in different level of urgency and significancy. Some are goods, some might bad; an over-think one, a spontaneous too. There were moments when we put so much consideration in mind, yet being mindlessly daring in some other times. At the end, it is the pile of choices we have; a stacking combination of a black and white things we have chosen on. Unto them, our small universe has been staggery built.
The black one, of course, is the black sheep of the family. Made by a foolish dear old friend, our old-self. The immature us. The careless one, who was following the sparks, taking a risk, pushing boundaries while blinding the inner self-consciousness. By then, consequences was far beyond mind, as we tested how far the acceptable area could be compromised into. It was the one point of life, where stupid choices were made recklessly and bad things were done easily. Arrogantly speaking, we permitted ourselves to be. Little did we know, how bad our past could unveil its true self and haunt us in the following future.
Once done, then it’s done. Time goes by, moment glides by. As we grow ourselves to the present us, we learnt to see in different perspective glasses. Time has enlighten our mind with every struggles in different kind of circumstances. Gradually, it changed our point of view. Connecting the dots, we finally grasped the whole understanding of its bigger frame clearly and it stroked us to realise what a mess we’ve been done. In the front of our very eyes, we saw our universe crumbled as the following consequences of our choices. And there, from the deepness of our heart, something was cracked and bleed. Stupid we were, we hardly admitted it so. Embarrassed of, we bury them into the deepness of thought while refusing to remember its existences. Deleting the certain part of memory and leaving it abandoned in the dustily corner of our heart; hoping the wound would heal over time.
We know that.
But still, the scars forever remained.
It stays there. A lasting mark of our pain and grief, a memento of what once was done and done. Though we refused to remember, others did not, and the memories forcefully being recalled. Haunting, as every glimpse unto it brings out the ghost from the past to torment the present us with the disturbing facts that’s been buried underneath. A failure, that’s how a scar means to us. An awful sign of a downfall moment. It stays as a reminder of our misstep and idiocy: every single mistake we did, every stupidity we acted unto. Stabbing the pain, bleeding the wound all over again. It points its finger and screams “LOSER” right in front of our face, every time. We, ourselves, are our biggest blamers. Hurts and painful as the ghost of our past glorifies above the suffering us.
But in the one brief moment of enlightenment, shall I back and differ?
As ugly as it may, scars are, indeed, not a very pleasant thing to see. It’s jarring and shows what’s supposed not being there. Yet, it’s still one inseparable part of our journey of life; the path that finally made us, us. Focussing on the shaming side of stories, we forget to see how the scars were made in the first place. It was coming from a choice, might be a reckless one, that tore a wound within and pulled us from a comfort zone to a terrible battle of our own. Breaking us into pieces then forcing us to grow revolving ourself into a better us. We stumbled ourselves upon on, but we had no choice but surviving trouble and reassembling our world from the scratch. As time goes by, we finished up the battle and the wound closed itself. Regenerating the tissue, closing on, and leaving its mark there.
Not as a sign of failure, but an evidence of life. Evident of choice we once made; evident of lesson we learnt in advance. Scars are a sign of growing, from the stupid-reckless us into the wiser one. It’s a milestone from the battle and struggle we once had; a personal experience that’s been shaping a better version of us. Though it might linked to unpleasant memories, there’s nothing we should ashamed of. Yet proud, instead. The scars remind us that we’ve been through a living hell persistently and back up again strongly. Wounded and injured, but yeah, survived.
Therefore, there’s should be no ghost haunting from the past. Nobody would understand it better than us, what a reason behind every wrong turn and mistaken choice. The battle would always be our own and only, as the acceptance should come ourselves solely. That’s our duty, not others, to shake hand with our past and embrace the scars. Forgiving self, that what we should do in the very first place. Having another person, who are willingly embracing the you you embrace, is just a jackpot bonus of life.
The immaturity and foolishness, we’ve all been through those stage after all. No one ever learn to fly without falling down stupidly and try again bravely. A great future doesn’t require a great past anyway, but a will of endurance and survival.
And that’s what our scars have been trying to tell us the whole time.
As ugly as it may, but it’s okay.
It’s a sign of bravery, our life’s medals of adventure.