Amale Bouzlafa

I see the wound.
I understand where it comes from.
And I am no longer confusing awareness with obligation.

There was a time when I believed that seeing the wound meant I was responsible for healing everything it touched.
That understanding automatically came with duty.
That depth meant endurance.

It doesn’t.

Understanding explains.
It does not require self-sacrifice.

For a long time, I trusted that my presence, my clarity, my patience could bring light to someone else’s shadow. And sometimes it did, briefly. But light offered to someone who hasn’t chosen to see becomes a burden for the one holding it.

That’s a chapter I’ve closed.

If it’s a “truth” you’re comfortable asking for, it’s probably not truth.
It’s validation.
Reassurance.
Preference.

Truth doesn’t wait to be invited.

Truth, by nature:

• interrupts you
• destabilizes a story you were attached to
• costs you something
• arrives without asking for permission

You don’t go shopping for it like:
“What truth do I want today?”

Because real truth doesn’t adapt to your readiness.
It reveals what is, not what feels convenient.

I once read this sentence, and it stopped me:

“Real growth is proportional to how much honesty you can tolerate without escaping.”

That’s the real metric.

Not how much you know.
Not how well you can explain yourself.
Not how spiritual, aware, or articulate you are.

But how much honesty you can sit with:

• without justifying
• without intellectualizing
• without blaming the past
• without turning it into someone else’s responsibility

Most people don’t fear pain.
They fear the moment pain stops being external.

Because when truth turns inward, there’s nowhere left to hide.

I split the apple.
And inside was pain passed down through generations.

Not evil.
Not malice.
Patterns.

Inherited silence.
Unprocessed fear.
Defense mechanisms disguised as love.

Seeing that doesn’t make me responsible for carrying it forward, or for fixing it in others. It gives me one responsibility only: choice.

Awareness is not obligation.
Seeing the wound doesn’t mean bleeding for it.

So the real question isn’t:
“Do you want the truth?”

It’s:
How much truth can you accept without running from yourself?

Because truth doesn’t shout.
It doesn’t chase.
It waits, quietly, until you’re willing to lose the story that protected you.

And when you are, it changes everything.

Trusting it will bring some light to someone’s shadow,

Amale 💫💙