accountant of the heart

As soon as you begin to ask the question: Who loves me?
are completely screwed,
because the next question is: How Much?

and then it is hundreds of hours later,
and you are still hunched over
your flowcharts and abacus,

trying to decide if you have gotten enough.
This is the loneliest job in the world:
to be an accountant of the heart.

It is late at night. You are by yourself,
and all around you, you can hear
the sounds of people moving

in and out of love,
pushing the turnstiles, putting
their coins in the slots,

paying the price which is asked,
which constantly changes.
No one knows why.

"The Loneliest Job in the World"
by Tony Hoagland

secret road maps of their personal histories

People have scars in all sorts of unexpected places, like secret road maps of their personal histories, diagrams of all their old wounds. Most of our old wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar, but some of them don't. Some wounds we carry with us everywhere and though the cuts long gone, the pain still lingers.

What's worse? New wounds which are so horribly painful or old wounds that should've healed years ago and never did? Maybe our old wounds teach us something, they remind us where we've been and what we've overcome, they teach us lessons about what to avoid in the future. That's what we like to think, but that's not the way it is, is it? Somethings you just have to learn over and over and over again.
~Grey's Anatomy