Just a fine line or may be more, may be many. Sometime it is unbearable to count the cuts
People do cut.
They cut papers, cut woods... cut to make full use of objects
People do cut
They cut the road, bridge the gap to come nearer to one another. They have to cut, to ease their anxiety. to shorten the time
People do cut
They cut cakes, cut cloths, cut cut cut to share... I give to you a piece of me. WE are on the same boat. Pieces, bits are token of friendship
People do cut
We do cut
We cut each other by all means. I am not talking about the bloody deed of stabbing using death instruments to physically torture human being but yet, I talk about cuts, whereby the defined line we draw between each other becomes clear. Cut of sepearation, cut of hurt using words.
I was cut, by an insane and vulnerable girl who was so helpless. Or rather the act should be described as hurting. I looked at her and what she did to me. She wished this sacrify could make an impact, not seeking attention but provoked thought. I looked at her and pitied the innosence, the good intention, which was wasted. The deafening silence between us is like an open wound. Who is she? Simply me. Of yesterday.
I start to think about cuts so much recentaly. The physical pain is short and compared to the emtional explosion of anger, it seems unremarkable. Open woud can close its mouth. Time does it job dutifully like a routine. Scars are left to remind us the past was real. I learn so much in the past few days, about hurting ourselves or so much more about unintentionally hurting those who actually care.
"Thingking can hurt your chances and I intend to last"
I remember this quote vividly in The Handmaid's Tale. And I remember my mother who told me, "when you hurt yourself, when you fall, when you love the wrong guy and eventually suffer from the relationship, you are putting an invisible cut on yourself. Blood bleed from thses wounds are not much of yours but much of mine." I think a lot of my mother and the way she lives her life. It hurts cuz the greatest gift she gave to me the day I was born was her sensitivity. She feels too much therefore I feel too much, care too much. And sometime, that kills your chances of lasting in this surrounding
So what is that suppose to do with cut?
We accidentally cut a deep line between us by slamming the door on our one another's face. The door is the cut. Now there is no more us, just u and your world. Me and my life.
We cut our friends by words, screaming, shouting, swearing saying things we do not mean to say (and we tend to do it more and more each day)
You cut me by hurting yourself. Crazy huh? What about me? I merely feel your pain. But what if I do? Your physial pain is my emtional defeat. I am helpless, unable to heal you, to stop you from hurting yourself.
My wound heals fast, my skin is thick and bold. But the bruise under it remained. and there is this invisible cut that left a scar on my heart.
You cut yourself hence you cut me. We cut each and every one of us out of the word US.
Where do we go from here?
