By Doctor Noose
Some knots never loosen.
Not with time.
Not with talking.
Not even with love.
They tighten when I try too hard.
They shift when I pretend they’re gone.
And sometimes… they just sit there — silent, tangled proof that I’ve survived something.
There was a time I wanted all the knots out.
I wanted my heart to be smooth silk, uncreased.
I thought healing meant “untouched.”
I thought closure meant erasure.
I thought if I just pulled hard enough, I could undo everything that ever hurt.
But now?
Now I know:
Some knots are part of the design.
There’s the knot behind my ribs.
The one I tied the night I begged to feel nothing at all.
It keeps my chest from collapsing.
There’s the knot in my throat.
The one I never swallowed when I should have spoken.
It holds back words that might still be too sharp.
And then there’s the knot in my hands.
The one that formed the day I couldn’t save them.
It hums when I touch others gently —
a phantom reminder to hold with care.
I used to hate them.
Now I listen to them.
They don’t scream.
They whisper.
They remind me:
“This part of you wasn’t broken.
It was bound.”
If you’re reading this,
and you’re carrying knots of your own —
ones that haven’t untangled,
ones you’ve tried to rip out or hide beneath your sleeves —
Maybe don’t pull so hard tonight.
Maybe name them.
Trace them with your fingers like scars in braille.
Let them tell their version of your story.
Because here’s the truth, stitched into every fiber:
Some knots aren’t holding you back.
They’re holding you together.
– Dr. Noose
🖤