Every scar is a reminder when no one was there.
Every razor is a reminder of the craving.
Every burn mark is a reminder of the pain.
My friend walked up to me in school today, in gym when I was wearing my shorts and t-shirt. She looked at my arms, legs, ankles, shoulders, collarbones, neck. She looked at my eyes and said, "Why do you have scars?"
Me, not having any idea how to tell her that I cut and burn myself, just replied with, "I'm at war." She simply looked back down at my scars and back up at my eyes, "Against who?"
I rolled down my sleeves as much as I could and looked down at the ground, "Myself." And then I walked away.
