Scars
I was picking at a recently acquired scab on my arm today (a real doozy, might I add), when I realized that it was probably going to leave a scar. I took a minute to think about this, and as I was staring at my arm, it dawned on me that that arm was never going to look the same again. Then, naturally, I began to expand on that idea. Aside from unnecessary surgery, scars are there to stay. So take that whole idea, and apply it to your emotions. We all know the phrase "emotionally scarred." That means that such a traumatic mark was made on someone that the ghost of it will always be visible, sometimes only to those who are closest, but it will be there. Then I began to take a look at myself and think of what my figurative scars were, and the effects they have had on me. They begin from day one, you know. A neglected newborn will carry the burden of either always feeling unwanted, or being unnaturally independent. When a child touches something hot, they never forget that. Or for a personal example I know some can relate to, when a son is left with a friend instead of a father, he will either choose to follow the same path, or probably try too hard when his chance comes. There are always exceptions, but I'm trying to keep things as simple as I know how. Then there are the worst kinds of scars, the ones that always cut the deepest. These are rarely an instant occurance, but rather a single spot that is cut over and over until the person finally learns that it hurts, but by that point it has gone numb. Hearts are the usual victim in this case. A heart can only be broken so many times before it goes beyond the reach of even the kindest mending. Done bun, can't be undone, as I have been known to say . . . to myself. The cruelest lacerations never bleed, remember that.
Fuck diamonds, scars are forever.
Fuck diamonds, scars are forever.