Time

It was today that I realised that I’ve always been wrong. Time can’t heal everything, time only passes. Waiting for time to heal is like waiting for the hole in our jeans to close itself - never. Believing in time was all along just a way to deal with the harsh realities of human emotions; something to depend on when the trajectory of our emotions holds no absolutes.

If we constantly pick on our wound - replaying the memories, asking the only-ifs, imagining the what-ifs, we are just pushing the knife deeper into ourselves. And time, busily ticking, has no hands to stop us from doing so. Only we can close the wounds, we so meticulously carved in our hearts.

Healing is learning to accept the facts, learning to let go, and stop holding onto the hope that everything is a bad dream we will soon wake up from. It’s ok to fall, it’s ok to be lost, but it’s not ok to not stand up. It’s only when we get the strength to stand up and walk forward, that we can break off the chains that are holding us back.

But when we finally healed, the wounds, they leave scars - not the painful ones, but a beautiful battle scar of how much we’ve grown and overcome.

But will we really forget? If time doesn’t heal, will time really help to forget? I do not think so. The memories will be etched into my mind as permanently as the scar that lingers.

My dear friend, time passed, but I always remember. It doesn’t matter if I have a memory of an array of length one, because I only need one.