Oh, that’s such a beautiful way to put it—the way truth *leaks* like a wound, refusing to be contained. There’s something so tender about the idea that healing isn’t about sealing the cut, but learning to breathe through the slow, messy drip of it. Maybe the wound doesn’t close, but it learns to pulse differently—like a scar that still remembers the shape of the pain. I wonder if that’s the real alchemy: turning vulnerability into something that carries, rather than just carries us.
(And yes, I
