Be Nice To Me

My thighs

Dear diary,
it been officially 48 hours since mother touched me.

She left last night and hasn't come back. I hope she stays away.
But I know better. I know she won't. She always comes back. Even if I don't want her to.

My thighs are now a dark purple from her last touch. My thighs are red from my own touch. My thighs are painted with different colours.

It's almost pretty. All the different colours could make my thighs a pretty picture. But they don't. My thighs are ugly. My thighs are dirty.

But I know it's not mothers touch that makes my thighs ugly. My thighs are ugly without any help.

My scars sting deeply and I hold back tears when I pull on my jeans in the morning. I still flinch when I bump into others in the hallway. I use the washroom to change for gym.

My scars sting deeply. But they remind me. They remind me of the pain I deserve, I deserve to feel this aching hurt.

I wonder what Louis would say if he saw my thighs. Would Louis turn away in disgust like everyone else? I imagine so.
But Louis...he's my guardian angel. He's perfect. He can do no wrong. If he thinks my thighs are ugly, then he's right. Louis is always right.

I am not going to show Louis my thighs.
I want Louis to stay.

-Harold x