by Jessica Kraker
I burned my hands today. Just a little reddened from working with too much heat and too little care for myself. Would you know from a picture of me today? You wouldn’t be able to tell my hands sting when your eyes are drawn to the smile on my face. And when I look back at that picture years later, I doubt I’ll be able to tell you about it, let alone remember what happened. Just another detail lost.
Pictures, words, memories – they leave out more than I like to contemplate. Where do all those lost moments go? Where does my annoyance at getting hurt float off too? Where does the ache in my fingertips go to when I throw them under cold water? Where does the redness of my hands fade into? They’re feelings that get lost forever. Blink and they’re already gone.
I’m already gone.
I burned my hands today. They’re better now I swear. But what about tomorrow? Will I have learned from my mistakes? I doubt it. Pain may be a good motivator for learning, but that was never my style. Pain isn’t how I remember. It’s how I forget. Just like the burns from my hands, pain disappears in the end. Most times, no one can tell I’ve been damaged before.
I have been damaged before.
But that person is long gone. And the person who burned their hands is newly gone. And the person I am at this very moment is wondering how much pain it would take to remember why I love to forget the things that make me feel.
Damaged goods for sale. They’ll be gone in a minute. Misery sells fast.
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