And our scars remind is, that the past is real.


I haven’t heard this question in quite some time now, but when I do, man do I get uncomfortable. When I was younger, and I’d first meet someone new, whether it be through friends, in a new class, etc., that uncomfortable question would always come up. What are they expecting me to say? Am I supposed to talk about my past with someone I’ve only known for a few minutes? Does anyone realize how invasive and rude that question is to ask someone in the first place? You obviously know what they are, and you obviously know they were self-inflicted, so why even ask? I feel like some people do it on purpose, and some people do it without even processing their thoughts before they have asked it. Stupidity, pure stupidity.

I started cutting in fifth grade, and it went on till about tenth… I’ll keep the details at that. But god, do I hate my scars. They’re embarrassing, and ugly, and I’m extremely self conscious about them. I avoid questions like the one above now, simply by covering  up. I wear a jacket, or some form of one almost everywhere I go, unless I’m at a friends house. Most of my friends know and understand my past situation, and I’m comfortable around them, so I don’t worry too much about my arm. It took me so long to rid myself of the title, “emo.” Then the title, “Liz, the girl that cuts.” I don’t want to be defined by fucking scars on my arm. It’s strange to thing something like scars can be used to characterize someone. I’m not a cutter, I haven’t self-abused in about two and a half years. And I think it’s strange that some people are proud of them. I don’t mean to be offensive to people who cut, or have, but why would you be proud? I might not be seeing the whole picture..maybe. But I had a friend a couple of years ago tell me she thought they were beautiful… But I think the exact opposite. Why would I be proud of a weakness, and dark part of my life? Yes, I’m still alive, and I got through the pain and depression, but I don’t see any glory in owning up to my scars.. So therefore, I keep them hidden. I want to get them lasered off, someday, before I ever get married. I don’t want to walk down the isle in a gown, with cuts all up my left arm. Bleck.

My old obsession with cutting was strange. I never intended to end my life, or even get close to it. I think it was a control thing, really. I’m so obsessed with being in control; I’m the epitome of a control freak… Not of others, but being in control of myself. I couldn’t handle my emotions. I was severely depressed, and no ounce of therapy or medication was helping. I couldn’t control how I felt, how I acted, my racing thoughts and bipolar tendencies.. But I had control over this… The pain, I guess. I could do it when I wanted, and could rule how much pain I wanted. In a sick way, I’m not sure if all people feel this way, it felt good. And thus… I have a nasty looking arm now. I guess the control factor is also why when I abuse(d) drugs, I used downers, mainly prescription pills. Whenever I used ecstasy, or drank alcohol, or even smoked weed, I felt like I couldn’t handle myself, and/or my actions. Ecstasy put me the most out of control, and even drinking gave me a serious anxiety. So I did pills. I could snort as many as I wanted. I felt good, and happy, and calm. I could think properly, and process things. I kept in check, so I was high as fuck, but I wasn’t in another world bugging out.

It’s also a big pain in the ass when you’re trying to, mingle, in a sense.(?) I’m interested in someone at the moment, but I’m dreading the whole explanation conversation that I know will be coming up soon. As to what I’ve experienced, women are a lot more understanding then men.. (Not trying to be biased against men, this is just on personal accounts.) And this new person, whom is male, might get freaked out… I’m not so sure. Blah.

I do wish I could be more positive about this. And maybe someday I will. Maybe I’ll change my perspective on the whole scenario. But as for now… Someone, donate me a couple hundred dollars so I can get these fuckers off of my arm, so that  the world doesn’t stare, and make a first impression on me based on that. I’m a pretty cool person, when you get to know the real me… If I ever give you that opportunity. 😉


2 Responses to “And our scars remind is, that the past is real.”

  1. It’s great to see that you’ve gotten past cutting! I don’t think your friend meant to like the physical sight of your scars, but to love that you overcame the addiction of it. Don’t let people and you think you’re stupid for having done it. They deal with their pain in self-destructive ways too, most of those ways don’t produce scars though. Thanks for sharing!

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