In the Japanese culture broken objects are repaired with gold;
cracks are something art can be made of, something unique;
imperfections are not just accepted but celebrated and ornated
I look at people that way;
in my eyes people are not broken or lost causes,
they are perfectly imperfect
For me, this comes naturally.
I have always been this way;
I appreciate the beauty of flaws
So, when I love someone, I love them whole,
I kiss their scars and caress their wounds,
all the things they deem unworthy of affection
The thought of someone feeling this way about me however seems wholly unnatural.
I cannot imagine someone looking at me, seeing all the broken parts, all my scars, everything I cry about
and loving them so dearly
I don’t understand how they might see golden cuts and gilded scars instead of mistakes and unworthy flaws.
loving someone makes sense to me
being loved feels fake and dangerous and wrong
But he showed me otherwise
he said that my scarred parts are to be loved like every other
he kissed what I thought was too ugly and broken, never to see the light of day
So now, I try to remember that every tear I cry makes its way in a golden stream into the deep dark cracks that have been damned and hated way too long
and they repair them, step by step
creating not a perfectly smooth surface but a unique and beautiful work of art
a work of art I call “myself”