Have you ever thought about how scars are formed? First you need something sharp, something with enough of an edge to puncture into your skin and rip it apart. And the skin, once ripped in two, will never be the same. You can reunite the separate parts, stitch them together, or even glue them back together, but it will never be the same. You will forever have a mark, a scar, a reminder from the past.
I have quite a few scars. I believe I have over ten scars by now. Some carry great stories with them, some are just boring, but they are all mine. My little marks to remind me of a lifetime of adventures.
What I think is funny is that people seldom ask about scars. Have you notice that? People look at our scars or maybe just steal a glance at them and then look away, probably hoping we didn’t catch them doing that, but they don’t ask. Why? Are they afraid for us, afraid they’ll upset us by bringing back to life a painful memory? Or are they afraid for themselves, trying to avoid hearing the gory details of the circumstances in which the scar was formed? Either way, they don’t ask.
But there are other scars that are even worse. The hidden scars. The scars so deep inside of us that no one but us can see. Those scars scary me the most. Because the scars we don’t share with others, the scars they can’t even imagine we have, end up eating us from inside out. They grow inside of us and develop teeth that chew our insides and sharp nails that reduce to shreds whatever was left.
And people can be pretty cruel about our hidden scars. But can we blame them? If they can’t see our scars, are they at fault for poking at them? Because, sometimes, they are only painful scars inside of us, but the same subject would do nothing to someone else. To someone else, the subject in question could be one to bring only happy memories. And we’re left alone in our gloomy world.
But what can I do about it? It’s my scar, my pain. It’s not like I can walk around with a sign warning people not to talk about things that could be painful to me. I can only try to deal with them my way. And hope things will work out at the end.
Sorry if this post is so down. It’s probably the effect of the medicine. Or of the headache. Or maybe it’s just one of my hidden scars trying to come to life.