Sometimes the lines around my eyes look deeper, the dark circles like black pools. The forehead is furrowed. Sometimes the slump of my shoulders show my ache. The ache from the weight.
It’s not important that the face has changed. But it is a reminder. A reminder that even pain of the soul can take its toll. Pain of the body is so obvious to see. But pain of the soul is more subtle. But it’s there nonetheless.
The pain has taken its toll.
Do we expect to always look the same forever? Do we expect to carry a heavy load and walk away unscathed? It seems ridiculous that we should even imagine that we could.
The scars on my face are my battle scars. They are my shining momentos of a fight. A long, hard fight. To survive. To not give in. To not give up. I fought the fight. Some days I still fight the fight. And so my eyes look weary. Some days more than others. I am growing to love my scars. I love that they show that I’m a fighter. That I won’t give up.
If you are looking more weathered from the storm, don’t fret. Take it as a victory. We rise not because we are beautiful and untouched by pain, but because we are beautiful because of the pain.
Wear your battle scars with pride. The journey and the scars only make you more beautiful to see and to touch.
Onwards my loves. Kiki xox.
” You are smart, you are kind, you are beautiful and you are important.”
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