I’ve always wondered why people say that time heals all wounds. It sounds simple, yet it never feels that way. Scars from the past are fragile, much like scabs that break easily and bleed freely. When I think about healing, I picture rubbing lotion on a fresh wound. The pain may seem smaller as the scab flattens, but the scar tissue remains tender, spreading over a larger area. The hurt lingers, just dulled and distributed across a wider field. Even though the intensity fades, the pain is never truly gone. There it is, like sadness—an inconvenient truth that never quite leaves.

For me, healing is more about learning to manage the scars than hoping they’ll disappear. The pain isn’t as sharp, but it’s always there, waiting to resurface at the slightest trigger. It feels like time creates a protective layer, something that helps me cope but doesn’t give full closure. I’m starting to believe that time alone isn’t enough to heal all wounds. Real healing, I’ve learned, involves actively engaging with those scars, not just sitting back and waiting for them to fade away.

Image courtesy of Unsplash