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People say words cut deeper than knives. The worst part? You rarely see the wounds from the outside.
I recall an experiment an old teacher conducted back in high school. He was trying to explain how bullying works, but honestly, it applies to many aspects of life.
He picked up an apple and hurled it against the hard floor. Again. And again. Then he held it up.
It was still shiny and red on the outside, just like before. But when he sliced it open, the inside was bruised, yellowed, brown in places, soft where it shouldn’t be.
You might not see a scar. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
Asher had made some progress over the last few months, slowly opening his life—and himself—to me.
But I got swept up in my happiness and lost sight of clarity. Since the gala, our relationship
