In Japan, there is a word – kintsugi – that speaks to the beauty in brokenness. It’s the art of repairing shattered pottery with gold, turning each fracture into something more valuable, more radiant. I’ve always found that idea so beautiful, yet I never imagined my own cracks, my own scars, could be worthy of such a thing. I never believed there could be gold for me.
But then, not too long ago, I found someone. Someone who saw me in a way I hadn’t seen myself. This person didn’t just see my cracks; they looked closer and showed me that those lines, those fractures I believed defined me, were not even cracks. They were just fading marks, the places where pain once touched me. In their eyes, those lines weren’t flaws – they were stories of survival, of strength.
In such a short time, they’ve poured their love into me, gently, patiently, in ways I never thought possible. And suddenly, I thought of kintsugi again. I realized I had always seen myself as something broken, held together by fragile pieces, but this person showed me that maybe I wasn’t broken at all. The love they gave didn’t just fill the spaces where the pain had left its mark—it transformed them. Their love was the gold, seeping into every inch of me that I once believed to be irreparable.
And for the first time, I felt beautiful, not despite my scars but because of them.
I truly hope that you find that person that would pour love into all the places that pain has touched you...
and even if you don't find that person,
be that person...
