I bounced back each time I was hit. I learnt to heal myself, whenever I was stabbed in the back. I learnt to forget and move on, but not forgive. It is a protection for the future. Glass, wax and lac have all tolerated intense heat in the process of moulding. Grapes are crushed and fermented, before they become an intoxicating wine.
Would I have been the same person, if so many people had not tried to break me? I reached a higher level of strength, and assumed new shapes to counteract every attack. And a new person emerged. It is the stronger and better me.
Fine, green henna
in the mortar and pestle
turns a pretty red.