Sticks And Stones.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

I heard that saying constantly as a kid, and even then it felt off. Adult me laughs at it now, not because it’s funny, but because it’s absurd. If I had to choose, I’d take sticks and stones any day. Bones heal. Bruises fade. But words? Words burrow in.

They repeat for years after they’ve been said. They echo in the quiet moments, shaping the way I see myself and the world around me. They become the soundtrack of self-doubt, the whispers that tell me I’m not enough, the reminders of every time someone cut me down.

The truth is, words do hurt. They hurt in ways that don’t show up on X-rays or leave scars you can point to. They hurt invisibly, reshaping identity and self-worth. And because they’re invisible, people dismiss them. They tell us to “get over it,” as if healing from words is easier than healing from broken bones.

But I know better. I know the sting of a sentence that won’t leave my head. I know how a careless phrase can become a lifelong burden. And I know how much work it takes to rewrite those words with gentler ones.

So no, words don’t bounce off. They stick. They bruise. They linger. And pretending otherwise only makes the silence heavier.

If you grew up hearing that same saying, maybe you laugh at it now too. Maybe you’ve carried words longer than you ever carried a broken bone. If so, you’re not alone.

Because words hurt. And acknowledging that is the first step toward healing them.