choosing the stick


That is the biggest crock of shit.
Words don’t hurt?!
Words hurt the most.
I can deal with bruises and cuts.
They are physical.
The stages of healing are tangible.
It fucks a person up, absolutely.
But at least there is something to focus on…
A cut to be washed and bandaged, to keep from infection.
A bruise that changes colors, so tender and black at first… fading to blues, purples, then the horrible shades of green and yellow.
A healing that can be measured and trusted.
A conclusion, recovery.
But words?
The wounds go so damn deep.
Words tend to sneak back into your brain.
Months, even years later, the words are stuck on replay.
Sometimes those echoes hurt as much as when they were first uttered.
Words cannot be erased and they can never be taken back.
Words break hearts.
Words deplete and destroy.
No thank you.
Give me the stick.