Razor

I accidentally cut myself with the razor while taking a shower. Like any curious soul, I studied the pattern of blood which flourished on the surface of my skin. Like most things that do bloom, it planted a question in my mind: 

Are some wounds worse than others?

As a person who doesn’t scar easily, it often makes me wonder why our bodies bother physicalizing the pain we feel. If the value of hurt was defined by how long the damage would last, are some wounds only considered deeper than others because they take longer to heal? I wonder if people are the same. 

Their value, I mean. If the value of hurt was quantified to be the duration of the cost, then would the value of people be the duration of their usefulness? Before I know it the skin on my hand has dried up, leaving something resembling an ugly red flower tattoo. Well I guess like most valuable lessons, the point of the wound is to heal. To change, to go away, isn’t that what makes it worth noting?