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I always wear my seatbelt so I’d always be safe – a simple precaution that’s supposed to be normal, common, that everyone unconsciously wears. Tiny surprise incidences aren’t suppose to damage me or hurt me in any manner, but when this seatbelt of mine goes faulty, I sustain superficial injuries from superficial actions that hurt so bad.

This seatbelt of mine is supposed to help me rebound me back to my seat in days like these, to assist me in maintaining this secure emotional wrap that leave me undoubtedly perky and cheerful, to pin me down in this invisible lock of safety so that I know not how painful these hurts feel each time. Like the reopening of the same scar at the same spot over and over, that eventually – I want to say I’m already used to it but I really don’t – the pain feels new each time.

My seatbelt disintegrates so easily at random times that things that do not affect me now do, like a vaccine that has gone past its expiry.

But I never learn from these, do I. Each time I leave myself exposed from the comforts of my seatbelt and hurt myself, I end up wounding myself deeper till I no longer believe in a cure.