Un libro al azar/A random book

do not put salt in my wounds

In the quiet solitude of her dimly lit apartment, Sarah sat alone, her thoughts swirling like a tempest within her mind. She had always been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, to trust others with a vulnerability that left her open to both love and pain. But as she sat there, nursing the wounds of past betrayals, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had been too trusting, too willing to give others the power to hurt her.

Sarah's wounds were like open wounds, raw and tender to the touch. Each memory was like a knife, cutting deep into her heart and leaving behind scars that refused to heal. She had tried to bury the pain, to push it down deep inside where no one could see, but it lingered just beneath the surface, a constant reminder of the betrayals she had endured.

And yet, as Sarah sat there in the silence of her apartment, she realized something profound. She realized that the wounds of the past did not define her, nor did they dictate her future. They were simply scars—reminders of battles fought and lessons learned, but they did not have the power to control her destiny.

With a sense of determination burning in her chest, Sarah made a decision. She would not let the pain of the past hold her back any longer. She would face her wounds head-on, acknowledging the hurt they caused but refusing to let them dictate the course of her life.

And so, with each passing day, Sarah began to embrace her scars—not as symbols of weakness, but as badges of honor, proof of her resilience and strength. She wore them like armor, a shield against the pain of the past and a reminder that she was capable of overcoming anything that life threw her way.

As Sarah walked the path of healing, she discovered a newfound sense of freedom and empowerment. She no longer feared the wounds of the past, for she knew that they had made her who she was—a survivor, a warrior, a woman capable of weathering any storm.

And though the scars would always be a part of her, Sarah found solace in the knowledge that they were not the end of her story, but merely a chapter in a much larger narrative. For in the end, it was not the wounds that defined her, but the strength and resilience with which she faced them, emerging stronger and more whole than she had ever been before.