ouch.

pulling up layers and layers. i know it’s in here somewhere, just that i don’t remember it being so deep within. some layers, clearly distinguished, hold a firm covering. those however, are the ones easiest to pull out. the problematic ones, ah, the tricky ones. they slip and slide, but are so tough, that mere tugging and pulling would prove futile. those are the hidden, "undiagnosed" or missed ones. we never knew they were there. we never knew we needed them there. but they keep it safe. safe where no one can touch. but so safe sometimes i forget i have it. i can’t feel it, and lose touch of it. then slowly, as the layers peel themselves off as they do once awhile, you start to feel again. and all the previous trauma, insults and damages, start to become real. and then you bleed, in some places more than others, and some but bruises here and there. i guess this time, the haemorrhage seems a wee bit too much to be asymptomatic. so when blood flows, so does the brine of the body.

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