One fine day pain became difficult to talk about and I started looking for metaphors. I think, there was one more reason to it, I didn’t want anyone to know what my heart held.

Those emotions were uncomfortable. So, I spoke about them only in metaphors. You can say that I hid behind those words. Then I started looking for more and then some more. Some days I became greedy, I looked for them everywhere. In the 5 PM tea, in the 2 AM self-talk, in that early morning commute. It was liberating in a way. Those words helped me express my ache.

To my surprise something strange happened then. Other people started taking interest in my pain. They said they found their pain in those artistically crafted words. They found themselves right there between those comas and full stops.

Will it be right to say that pain unites us? Even though it doesn’t seem like but everyone is in pain. Maybe because some are just too good at hiding it. That’s what even I was trying to do. I was trying to hide my pain behind words. Yes, we always try to hide it, behind the metaphors of work, random errands, Instagram posts and what not. We are all the same just using different metaphors to express our pain.

As everyone was appreciating my words, I thought I was healed. Well after so many artistic words what do you expect? But even then, there were visible traces of scars that were once formed. I know the wounds were not open and the blood didn’t drip. But still there was something there. Something that told me about the cut that once existed.

A friend once said to me, it feels like this because even after a wound has been healed a part of you is left outside in the process. You look whole only on the surface. No one knows when or where that tiny part of you fell off. But your heart misses it.  And what we can do is just keep looking for that part in different metaphors. But no matter how much we try we never find the same part again. Yes, we are never the same person who was hurt.