I was thinking today about my scars. My phyical ones that is. I have many scars. Some caused by me, some not. Now that I think about it I have alot. Most of the scars I have, are ones I have done. I look at them in discust. They are horrible. I wonder how I am ever going to be intimate with someone, when I have this nasty body. I look at me in discust, so what the hell is someone else going to think?

I have these scars on my right leg, below my knee. These scars were done while i was in hospital, with a paperclip I stole from the arts and crafts area in the psych ward.  I’m lucky these scars weren’t seen by the nurses or drs, cause the contract I signed when I was getting admitted said that I agreed not to hurt myself while in the the ward.  I locked myself in the toilets and just cut away. I hid in there many times. Even though it was a lock that could be opened from the outside. Still it was soo nice to just lay down on the cold floor.

I never cried, even when I cut my wrist, i never cried. Not once. In fact I was laughing. I remember talking to the people on the phone, laughing at the fact that I had just cut my wrist. Is that strange? I think so. I noticed that alot of people in the ward didn’t cry. Maybe it was all the meds.. I dunno.

Mum asked me once what happened to my leg. I froze. Then I turned around and just said "ohh they are just cuts". Like it was this casual everyday thing. She never brought it up again. Sometimes I catch her glancing down at the scar on my wrist. I try my best to hide it, but I know she has seen it. I feel really sad when my little sister sees it. She has never asked me what happened, but shes not stupid. Shes 13, she knows about suicide, depression and all of that stuff.  I pray she doesn’t end up like me. She is the only one that means anything to me in my family. I don’t know what i’d do if she ended up like me.

I have this other scar, on the opposite arm to my wrist cut. Its on the top of my hand. This one I was drunk and just started mauling at my hand. I kept on biting my hand  until there was this deep hole in it, and about 3cm wide. I was still working at this time, and someone seen it. They asked what happened, and i said I burnt myself on the iron while ironing clothes. It was the best lie that I could come up with at the time. Mum asked me over and over what happened, I could never give her a better answer than "ohh i just hurt myself".

So those are the visible ones, i have soo many more that arent visible, unless i was unclothed. Those are the ones that bother me the most. Those are the ones that I know i will have to discuss with a partner, If i were ever to intimate with them.  I have many many scars on my abdomen, Breasts, upper legs. Those were the places where I attacked myself most. I didn’t want to get caught, So I hid them. To this day, no one except myself has seen them.  I’m soo scared to show anyone, and I don’t know if i will ever have the courage to show them to anyone.

Do the scars on the outside, reflect the ones on the inside?

When I’m looking at myself in the mirror, I can’t look into my eyes. I don’t like looking at her, She is a sick, sad person, and I pity her.  I can’t look at her, cause i know that, that girl is me. I don’t want to see the person I have become. I am ashamed of her.