No one ever told me the damage would be permanent.
We like to pretend that as people we’re able to heal. We get hurt, yes, but we’re able to mend (unlike objects).
Maybe I’m becoming a cynic, but I’m starting to believe that while we heal we’re never the same. It’s as though there’s an imperceptible crack left. I face evidence, actually: once you’ve cracked your ribs they’re more likely to crack again. When you’ve sprained a joint enough times you’re deformed where the soft tissue remains swollen because of all the damage it’s sustained.
And even if you love again there’s always going to be that crack from when someone else broke your heart. You might not talk to the people in your past who have left you damaged, but memories cone around and although you’re happy there’s still pain.