The following is an entry for therealljidol
Season Four - Week #8 - Entry #8
Only I remember the scars that could have been, and the scars that were once to be seen on my skin. When I was in wrestling in high school, a girl who didn't like me clawed me in the face. It didn't leave a scar. On Christmas Day of my senior year, chicken pox showed up with a vengeance and led to a gross, pussy face. I was worried that I would be disfigured for grad, but it cleared up, and my face was whole. My stomach now holds scars from my first experience of surgery this summer when my gallbladder was removed, but even those scars lie beneath my clothing, and no one else ever sees them.
It is the scars that are always on the surface of my life that can be seen, because they are old and deep and embedded. Soul scars. My story is mostly the history of my family and that of most people - my natural child-like trust has been forfeit to a world where it is translated into hurt and disgust in short order. What I have found to be the second greatest truth in this unjust world is this: The majority of wounds are inflicted by the wounded.
It is my insecurities that create the force behind a verbal blow, something said to hurt. It is the same wounds and insecurities in others I call friends that cause them to lash out. Understanding that, however, makes those wounds forgivable, and when they are tended they will heal and be forgotten. Many lives are ruined by allowing those wounds to fester, by making them your own, by tending them negatively. Unforgiveness and grudge-holding is like pouring dirt into an open wound, it always causes loss.
The greatest truth of an unjust world is that the base hatred of others cuts the deepest. Hurt dealt out not based on a response to their own hurt, but their sociopathy, misogyny, or misanthropy. Being so worthless to someone that they could cut you to the quick with words or deeds or any weapons, like an ordinary kitchen vegetable, and think of you with no more worth? That scars deeply. Ironically, the scars are deeper because it is so unfounded. So unfair. These are the injustices that feed my anger, the marks that criss-cross my soul like an undeserved beating. Not only mine, but the same injustices wherever I see them. They create wounds so deep that dark places are formed, cavernous, inside. Even those places, dark and looming large, may eventually be filled.
Beautiful is the kind of human soul with the courage to be the walking wounded, the soul that understands that there is a time for weeping, and abandons weeping to their own dark corners to seek out the light. I pray that I will always be that kind of survivor. And I pray that I will always help others to survive instead of hurting them.
I took my second bye last week because I was sick of talking about the New Year basically. Hope I haven't lost my LJ Idol readers! =)