Eternal Scars. They are the ones that will follow me all my
years. I will never rid myself of them. I will never be considered normal. But,
I guess the question is: do I really want to be? As cliché a question it is, the answer is no. Plain and simple. I never
want to be normal, because normal is… boring. So, I love my scars. And I hate
them. When I stand out, it’s because I want nothing more than to see if people
will notice. When I yell in the hallway, it’s to see if people will hear. When
I do crazy, scary, or even beautiful things, I want to see how others will
respond. Mostly, I want to know how many people can see past the scarring and
their own reputations, and take the time to say something.
Twenty percent. That is the amount of scarring on my body. I
don’t know how much my donor sites take up, but I know the scars themselves cover
twenty percent. Do they bother me? You bet’cha. Do I wish I didn’t have them?
Occasionally. Am I happy I was given them? Every day of my life. Because,
though I can speculate all my life about how I would have been different, had I
never been scarred, but I don’t particularly want to change. I’m happy with
myself, and it took years to come to this realization and accept my body as it
is. If I ever change, I want it to be
for the betterment of myself, not to change myself to make another person happy
with whom I am. They can either accept me or reject me, but I will not change
myself for their sake. I am who I am. And I will allow no one to tell me
otherwise. So, I think of this scarring as a blessing. What about you? Do you believe all your scars and all the pain and suffering that has brought you to this point was worth it? Is it a blessing, as it is to me? Or for you, is it a curse?
I don't really have much else to say, this time around at least. I think my next post will be my story. How I came to be eternally scarred.
