Words rip our skin from our bones, leaving only a skeleton of emotion. They tear us down only when we’re only just piecing together our shattered parts. Blow after blow renders us defenseless to the next wave of insults. There is no “stopping” a fight fought with words instead of fists. People may stop, but the words bury themselves in our souls, picking away at our kindness and compassion. Replacing it with bitterness and spite. The wounds heal with time, time to forget the words from a fight you don’t even remember the reason why it ignited.
However, you remember the harsh words said that day. The pain felt in your heart as each blow takes a piece of your soul is almost forgettable. Almost. As the memories of those spiteful words come back from the grave, pain strikes you in your least expecting moment. Suffocating you with memories seemingly set to rest years after the reparations.
Over time, the pain lessens, never truly going away. The pain from these words is constant. Constant crashing against the wall you built around yourself, threatening to tear your life away in one fell swoop. The pain stays, as long as those words are still being said.