[Eyes of Balance (S)]
It was an eye that could distinguish the nature of good and evil of the target, the authenticity of their words, and the favorability that the target had.
His answer was sincere.
—I'm afraid. —I admitted quietly, dropping my defenses for a mont.
My honesty seed to move Arceus. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to comfort , tell everything would be okay... but we both knew that would be a lie.
A long sigh escaped his lips. He adjusted his posture against the rock wall, without looking up.
—Fear is natural, KathyIn. We all feel it. But if you let fear limit you, you'll never know what you're capable of.
Although I was still a bit angry with him, after hearing these words, I felt he wasn't wrong at all.
Gradually, I beca accustod to conversing in the darkness. Without the burden of light, I felt freer to express those thoughts that I normally kept buried deep inside myself. I listened to his words in silence and, in the end, smiled sadly. How could I know what I was capable of when my entire life had been in the shadow of my perfect sister?
—You know... when I ca here, I was ready to die —I confessed—. After all, in this world there isn't a single soul who cares whether I live or die. When I'm gone, no one will be sad. No one will even rember that I existed.
My voice sounded ethereal and strangely lancholic, creating a captivating atmosphere in the darkness as Arceus listened to attentively.
On my face there was an expression of helplessness, but a mont later it disappeared and was replaced by a fierce determination.
—But then I changed my mind. At so point along the way, I decided to survive. I must survive, no matter what.
I spoke with a smile that hid all the bitterness accumulated over years.
Did living simply an escaping death? As long as I wasn't technically dead, did that an I was alive? I didn't know for sure, but sothing inside refused to give up.
Arceus lowered his head. After a minute or so, wrapped in a heavy silence, he finally responded.
—To live a life worth rembering?
—I think living ans treasuring what we have in life, whether it's a place, a person, or our relationships.
I was surprised by the sincerity of my words. A bright smile, perhaps the first genuine one in a long ti, appeared on my face.
—You're terribly mature. —Arceus joked, not knowing how else to respond to such a statent.
I simply chuckled, a laugh that for the first ti in a long ti seed genuine and spontaneous, free from the weight of expectations and failures.
After that, Arceus turned around and lowered his head, becoming like a statue again. It seed our conversation had ended.
By the way... He must be doing it on purpose... He must think I'm too sensitive...
But thinking about this, I couldn't help but clench my teeth. I didn't know how many tis I scolded him in my heart, but I didn't say it out loud.
Grumbling inside, I lay down and tried to keep watch. I really didn't have any feelings or anything, but I felt like I was being abandoned for no reason, so I was in a bad mood. There was no doubt that Arceus had sohow managed to please . It had reached the point where he could influence my emotions to so extent.
Love and hate had sothing in common: interest. As if they were elents of the sa coin, it was possible to exchange them.
For , the natural state was to distance myself from others and treat them coldly. This was the result of the trauma I had suffered in my childhood, which had led to not being able to trust another person. Unless one could enter my heart, any relationship one forged with would only be superficial.
When we hear the word "trauma," we often associate it with extre events: wars, natural disasters, inevitable tragedies. However, traumas in people don't always manifest so evidently. Sotis they hide in small gestures of indifference, in the silence of those who should have protected us, or in words that sowed doubts about our own worth.
Traumas arose when an experience was too intense for a person's mind and heart to process. They could be caused by physical, emotional, or sexual abuse, neglect, abandonnt, or even an unstable family environnt. In those environnts, parents, trapped in their own traumas, failed to provide emotional security. And therein lay the cruelest detail: what marked people, especially in childhood, wasn't just what happened to them, but also what should have happened and never did.
I had grown up in an environnt where the little love I knew was conditional, where "affection" was always accompanied by criticism, and where silence prevailed over words of affection. I not only carried visible scars; the wounds in my heart were as deep as a sunken ship in the middle of the ocean.
I had learned the hard way that repressed emotions never died; they were buried alive and returned later in even more devastating forms. Traumas didn't disappear, they hid and transford, finding new ways to manifest.
I t so children who beca extrely anxious, always expected the worst, and lived in a constant state of alert, as if danger was lurking at any mont. On the other hand, I t others who had learned to disconnect completely from their emotions, becoming people who didn't know how to na what they felt, because in the environnts in which we grew up it was never safe to feel.
So sought obsessive control over their lives, trying to ensure they would never again feel the powerlessness they once experienced. Others, like , repeated the sa patterns, unconsciously seeking to recreate the environnt of our childhood. As painful as it had been, it was the only kind of love I knew.
Those of us who grew up in unstable or threatening environnts always remained on alert. Our nervous system adapted to survive, constantly entering a state of fight or flight. This ant that, even when there was no real danger, our bodies reacted as if there were. The heart raced, muscles tensed, breathing beca short and shallow. And the worst: this biological programming didn't disappear with ti.
It remained active for decades, transforming into chronic anxiety, panic attacks, insomnia, and even autoimmune diseases. Not only did the mind suffer, the body also kept records of what happened. Traumas weren't simply a story about the past; they lived in the present, in the body, in the breath, and in the way those of us who experienced them reacted to the world. That was the great tragedy of traumas: they not only marked the past, but also hijacked the future.
Without realizing it, we carried the fears of childhood in our personal relationships. We could beco adults who never felt good enough, who feared emotional intimacy, who sabotaged themselves without understanding why. We could spend a lifeti running from sothing we couldn't even na.
But there was sothing we needed to rember: traumas were not a destiny. What happened to us might have shaped who we were, but it didn't have to define who we would be. The first step was to see it, the second to understand it, and the third, the most challenging of all, was to grow and accept that healing was possible. Because it was, or at least that's what I liked to believe.
That's why, telling soone to simply get over a trauma was not understanding the depth of its roots. This type of pain didn't dissolve with ti nor disappear with willpower. It needed to be processed, understood, and released.
Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it... destiny.
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