We all have scars, we all have them to remind us of what was. A life of pain and anguish, a life we all wish to forget but we cannot. Some of our experiences have cut too deep into our hearts and embedded into our minds and some of us cut those scars ourselves.
Oh how I wish you could see them, how I wish someone could react to them and fully understand their significance. But I’m too afraid, too ashamed to let the glittering sunlight shine on them, too afraid to lift up my sleeves in public and too afraid to tell you. For I am already shattered, my emotions are fragile, and my thoughts get the better of me. I fear what people will think, I fear what people will say, I fear that I’ll be judged so I put my scars away. Yet I feel that people should know about us, they should know that young boys and girls write their pain on their bodies with sharp blades. Blades that tear through their skin and leave a trail of red blood.
Understand that it is not suicide, it is wanting to know if you’re alive, it’s pain which is controlled by the holder of the blade. It is said that dead people do not bleed. Thus, the sight of your own blood excites you, it reminds you that you are indeed alive, it is a reminder to live. Although it causes pain, it’s a sensation you long to feel. Just so you can stop remembering for that very moment and remember that your existence is indeed real.
Was it worth it though? It does no justice, you still feel pain, you are still hurt, and you are still in agony. So why cut yourself? for life is just as sharp as the blade that you hold and so are people. They will throw knives straight towards you, which will cut every part of you, shredding you into a thousand pieces, like a piece of paper put into a shredding machine. If life can cut you just as bad, was it really worth cutting yourself? was it really worth trying to beat life at its own game?
Maybe it was, I know it was for me. for I do not feel shame when I stand in the mirror and see the scars on my body, Sadness does not creep in my mind but instead I feel proud. I wear them with a smile on my face knowing that I did not give in to depression, for I am a worrier that cannot be broken, a warrior that has lived to tell his story and a worrier that has lived to fight another day!
_Self inflicted pain is not just physical, it can be both mental and emotional as well.
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