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This is the hurting. 

This is the healing. 

I used to hear these words all the time in my head,

I still do. 

In a way we all do. 

We all hear that jiminy cricket voice in our head, 

whispering that what we are doing is hurting 

or what we experience is healing. 

Sometimes we hear the hurting more than the healing. 

In my mind, 

I find it hard to believe the ripping feeling in my chest, 

the breathless steps I take, 

and the agonizing feeling of a heartbeat

is healing. 

Healing is being able to smile at those who've wronged you and say:

"I forgive you." 

I've smiled and I spoke...

but I never really meant it. 

On the other side, 

my truest healing came with tears. 

I cried, and screamed, and begged...

and then I forgave. 

I took the one who did the most hurting, 

and I smiled through the tears and said:

"I forgive you." 

That was the healing. 

This is the hurting. 

All these words are bottled up, 

begging for release. 

I can scream to the heavens but at the end of the day, 

this hurt wont dare look me in the eyes. 

Melancholy hits the hardest when you're in the dark. 

Sometimes you go to sleep smiling, 

and wake up suffocated by the invisible hands 

of hurt. 

These are my first steps; 

I know you'll never truly face me, 

you'll keep hiding. 

And I'm okay with that. 

That is your hurting, 

This is finally my healing.