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Ugh...for some time I used my left forearm and inner thighs as a cutting board, and as such, I have a number of scars in different states of recovery. Some are still pinkish, others pure white and raised.
The healing process intrigues me.
I'm going to try to sound as non-cliched and lame as possible in saying this, so I suppose the best way to do so is to be completely honest.
I think scars are beautiful, whether self-inflicted or otherwise. They are external marks that reflect your history, your state of mind and being at a particular moment in time.
They're all we have left when our memories fail us, which they inevitably will.
Tattoos are just ink embedded in scar tissue. I like to think of my scars as self-made tattoos, with just as much a meaning to who I was as a person when I felt compelled to hurt myself in such a way.
They reflect the past, but that is invariably sill a part of who I am, and to deny that, to feel ashamed of my past, is a denial of my present.
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