Scars

I can't make them go away. I can't make them stop hurting. I feel like I swallowed a million razor blades tonight...and the only thing the scars beg for is release, or maybe more pain. I just want to stab them with a needle to feed the pain, or maybe release it for good. If I feed it, maybe it will sleep for bit and let me be.

Every time I forget the scares are there, I accidentally brush against one of them or scratch an itch and there they are...jagged little edges...no meat behind them...shallows on my own body....holes where someone got inside of me, but a piss poor job of putting me back together whole. Easy access so maybe they can cut me open again? or just permanently marking me as imperfect.

No one wanted to scare me, and tell me how awful it would be in the end. Everyone just provided me with hope-filled wishes that when it is all over every thing will be better. You'll feel so much better when it is over. HA!...later as I still deal with the constant pain and complications, the truth comes out...It was awful, totally rearranged my insides. I haven't been the same since. Screw hope. I wish I would have known the truth and what the future really had in store for me.

Waking up, feelings as though they were trying to suffocate me...the pain...walking around, holding my insides in, fearing if I let them go, everything would fall out. I didn't care enough to ask for help thought, continuing to push myself further and harder only to cause more pain. The tearing and pulling, at what little of my insides that were still intact, only to in the end, hurt more.

Still, I rub, I scratch the scars. The depressed, rough scar where there once was perfection and the reality of imperfection now stakes claim.