I stroke the wounds that closed up. It gives an oddly calming feeling, allowing me to slowly breathe. Seeing the other scars that gleam silver under white lights, again, it's oddly calming. These parts of myself are the ones that I would not change because I feel like I am not the person that I am now without them. Scars that are etched almost everywhere, left forearm, both wrists, legs and abdomen. They are a part of me.
I've accepted them and they are the flaws that I am okay with and I identify with. I wouldn't say it's a good thing but it is a part of me.
In times of struggle, they seem to be the most beautiful things ever because it reminds me that I am capable of healing.
Tell me that I'm crazy but you don't know what kind of crazy you will be accusing me of.
No comments:
Post a Comment