I used to love the scars.
I used to love them, and they would comfort me when I was sad.
Now they are only a reason to stop, a preventative measure, something to convince myself to find another way to feel better, but it's not easy.
I used to love the way they looked on my skin,
now I cannot stand them being there. They are unwelcome.
I wish they would leave my skin forever, and I swear I'd never make another. I swear, I would never press that blade to my innocent skin again. I swear, I swear, I swear,
I would find another way to make the sadness leave.

*5.26.13