Dear Demons,

My Scars

My scars DO NOT define who I am.

What makes you think you can comment about my scars if I just met you?

Abi T, that day in U.S. history when I decided to wear short sleeves, remember that? All I wanted to do was finish my fucking school work, but instead, you grabbed my wrist (that doesn't feel very nice okay?) and screamed "Oh my God! Your arm!"

I looked at the scars lining my wrist.

No fucking shit 'my arm'.

"Did you do that to yourself?!" She exclaimed.

Don't fucking do that.

"Evan! Dylan! Look at her arms!!"

No Abi! Quit it!

I pulled my arm away nervously.

Evan looked over quickly. "Did you do that?" He teased in a mocking, sinister voice. "Was it your cat?" he sneered.
Tears started to stream down my face but I wiped them away quickly. I was shocked and I couldn't respond. I just sat there and cried with my head down.

I don't understand why any human being thinks its okay to do that. Tell me if something like this has happened to you because it fucking pisses me off so much.

People stare at my wrists a lot. When I meet someone new, and I try to be polite, I can feel their eyes on me. When I decide to wear shorts on a hot day, I see them glaring at my thighs, the purply red scars covering my upper thigh. I nervously pull my shorts down or tie my jacket around my waist. I see people looking at my scars all the time. It pisses me off.

I went to the nurse one day at school during P.E. We were doing a work out and I had forgotten to take my meds for a couple days. I get really dizzy when I'm off my meds. A hot flash erupted throughout my body and I went stiff. That's when a ten pound medicine ball came crashing down on my face. Tears burst out my eyes, I whipped my broken glasses off my now red nose. I started hyperventilating as I held my chest, moving up and down quickly and uneven. I held my face, the bridge of my nose and my forehead tender to the touch and hot. My coach excused me to wash up and get a drink of water, where I then went to the nurse.

I signed in, the nurse evaluating the damage, checking my temperature and then giving me an ice pack. After a while, she quickly noticed new scars on my wrist.

Annoyed, I stated they were just scratches, hoping she would move on.

"What's this one?" She asked, running a finger across a non-self inflicted burn.

"Just a burn from an iron in home ec," I stated, pulling my wrist away.

She pointed out other cuts and burns all over my arm. She told me to wash the scars, then bandaged them.

I sighed in annoyance. This isn't what I came here for!

After that, she went to make a phone call to my mother, then the counselor. I thought about just leaving the nurses office. I just wanted to change out of my sweaty P.E. clothes and go to class! The counselor came down, talking about why I decided to cut myself again the night before. Of course, I started crying like the weak person I am. I told her about my dad, and how I feel like I'm never good enough. She let me go down to the locker rooms and change before taking me to her office. I cried for the whole period.

Incidents like that piss me off because if I didn't have those scars, or I was wearing long sleeves, I would have been sent on my way. I know they have to report things like that, but I just wish they didn't.

You can message me if something like that has happened to you or just talk to me if you're feeling worthless or upset or anything like that. Vent to me if needed. I hope you all are having a good day.