Scars fade.
All kinds.
But some remain,
and as they fade I find it hard to let them leave.
I can see the blood fall off my arms like it was yesterday.
Tiny droplets of myself fall one by one into the drain.
I remember the feeling.
And I remember the hatred for myself.
And I remember the everyday struggle.
But something is hard to let go.
It will forever be a part of me,
but how large of a part?
That is the new struggle.
One more scar to try to get rid of.