Scraped Knees

I remember when I fell and scraped my knee while trying to catch the bus a couple months into us dating. I was terrified to tell you that I needed help cleaning it up, because we already said we were taking the day to ourselves. But you took me in and cleaned me up without hesitation. That was one of the first times I “felt loved.” But it wasn’t love. I just wasn’t used to someone licking my wounds for me. Then we broke up a year and a half later. And after that, I practically fell and scraped my knees every week. It was like my feet were too big for my body. My legs (and once, my hands on a particularly hard fall) were littered with scabs and bruises. I just kept falling. And once again, I was licking my own wounds. I was taking care of myself like I was used to. I was licking my wounds while mourning what never happened. I was lost in a graveyard of what-could-have-beens. Then six months past, and before I knew it, it was almost a year since I ended our codependency. Well, dependency on my side. I was falling less and less. My scars were fading. And when I did fall, I licked my wounds pridefully, almost happily. I healed quicker. I was able to understand how to stop myself from falling. And I stopped falling. I haven’t scraped my knees in months. I am no longer constantly licking my wounds. I am running harder without fear of scabs and purple legs. I am healing. I am finally healing on my own.