Scars...

They’re kind of pretty in a way, but at the same time I’m incredibly ashamed of them. They’re markings that prove me to be weak, addicted, and hurt. They’re carvings that say “I can’t cope” in their own language. They’ll be there to remind me of my weakness. They’ll remind me that I’m addicted. No matter how long I go without cutting, I will always be a cutter. The temptation can never go away. It’ll always seem like the easy way to deal with it.