Remembering Who You Were Before the Cut

The sun is just beginning to gray the window, but you are still here in the quiet, tracing the raised edge of what happened to you. You touch the scar in the dark to memorize its new texture before anyone else sees it, before the world assigns it a story you didn't write.

There is a kingdom inside you that existed before this wound, and it remains untouched by the breaking. What you look forward to has already come, but you do not recognize it yet because your fingers are still learning the shape of the pain.

The light does not ask you to hide the scar or pretend it isn't there. It asks you to know yourself so deeply that the wound becomes just one part of the whole, not the definition of the whole.

You are not becoming someone new today. You are remembering who you were before the cut.