the things we survive become the map of our tenderness. The scars are where the light gets in, they say. But it's not just light. It's also where the truest roots can find purchase, anchoring you to something real beneath the shifting sands. You can't build a life on unbroken skin. The body keeps the score, but the heart rewrites the captions. I'm learning to find the humor in the old hurts, not to diminish them, but to see how absurdly resilient we can be.