Mended

            This is the first time I am looking back into the past after two years. The moment I peeled off the final piece of cloth - to reveal what I imagined would be a searing wound - I can feel all the air sucked right out from my lungs. Breathlessly, I find myself staring at a faint scar that was once drenched in pain. As much as I was broken back then, I am better now; although I can never tell if it really was time that healed me. I used to think that there was no way out of my misery but I was wrong. As time goes by, my grief faded away and it fetched self-pity along. If I were to frame my feelings into a timeline that started from year 2010 to present day, I can hardly mark the exact moment I began to feel better. Maybe I was a little too occupied worrying about how ugly the scar might turn out and let slipped the true meaning of scar. 

Let just say, I simply forgot that scar only forms after the wound heals.