It’s not cool to be wounded…

It’s not cool to be wounded, is it?

To hold your breath and embrace the vacuous, scalding pain that insists on pulling you further into it.

The world doesn’t care.

It makes them uncomfortable, it shows them what it was like for them, what it’s like for many of them behind the veil of pretence and the anonymity this electronic age affords them.

They don’t need reminding. They’ve hid it so well for so long, they don’t need you unearthing that guttural kind of torture again. It’s not cool to cry out into the heavens while the rhyming rain beats icily against your skin; they don’t want to see that.

It disrupts their lives, their happiness, their facades and chips away at the stoic garments they’ve worn to pretty their lies and mask the hurt they feel.

The world is obsessed. It wants to glitter; to appear smooth, shiny and glamorous and to be beautiful and accepted. So your sadness, your reality and your truth cannot and will not be tolerated. Your pain is not welcome here. That’s what they want you to know, that’s what they need you to understand. Your pain is too close to home, too real to not affirm and too overwhelming to tame, so they don’t want to see it.

You should smile through it.

Laugh the weight away. Smile to hide the cracks and nod obediently to smother the wailing. It’s what’s expected of you, in this world. In this world where so many are lost, so many are hurting and so many are forgotten; united by our shared brokenness, in this world where pain is common currency, you have to hide it because nobody wants to see it.

The world wants life; it wants light, laughter, drunken trysts, wild tales, one night stands, back-alley first times, cocaine binges, dancing on tables, Sunday mornings and memories. The world wants memories, happy ones to tide them over while the septic nightmares threaten to claim penance.

The world wants to drink in the light while their hands claw at the night sky and all eyes are on them while they’re dancing on tables…dancing on tables…because nobody else will dance with them. So the world wants nothing more than for you to keep your raw emotions, your scathing truth and your pain to yourself.

So…did you hear that it’s not cool to be wounded?


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