Scars . . . and what they mean to me.
by Scar 13 : July 25th, 2006
I get a lot of inquiries about my scars. I proudly display them and flaunt the name on Scar13.com, so it is no wonder people are curious. Here is an explanation, for everyone who was wondering but thought they would offend me by asking :-)
All of my scars are self inflicted. When I was younger I was the epitome of troubled youth, very unhappy and very manic-depressive. I took any pain I had in my life out on myself. By the time I was thirteen, I was cutting myself, not to the degree of scarring but mostly for the physical sensation. It is a distraction, you see. When I was in pain or bleeding, I never thought about what I was really feeling emotionally.
Long story short, I eventually got through this stage in my life. It took a lot of self realization though, and a lot of internal struggling. It was habit to hurt myself after so many years of doing it. One day after I had hit rock bottom. I had started using drugs more than recreationally and was cutting myself deep enough that I had scars up and down my thighs and on my left arm. I noticed that children and dogs on the street would avoid me. My family was scared of me, not in the way that they didn’t still visit with me, but in the way where they didn’t know who I was anymore. My friends didn’t even bother to call.
My world had become one in which I was isolated from anything beautiful because I had surrounded myself with ugliness. Seriously, though, the animals and the children were what snapped me out of it. My whole life I had always been able to get …
