Don’t you think that scars are just beautiful?

It’s a part of you that once hurt, but healed and left a little reminder that in time, all things heal. Some people are afraid of their stories, but I’m not. I think that our stories makes us beautifully twisted.

When I look at the scar on my hand I think of that time m hand went through a glass jar in grade 4. I look at my hand again and remember the time that oil spilled over my hands in grade 8. I look at my arm and remember the day my straightener hated my flesh in grade 10. Things happen that we learn from.

Yes, I am not the person I used to be because things happened in my life that changed me. I have had a gun pointed at me. I have had my heart broken. I have been back-stabbed and broken down. I don’t know my family history and I have been shunned by friends.

Sometimes when you’re life is threatened you start questioning life and how you’re living it. What if’s start spilling into your mind faster than the tide. But that’s your story.

My scars make me beautiful.



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