I am a black girl with scars. They are dark brown and right next to my tattoo. I am not proud of them but I do not abhor them either.
They are as much a part of me as everything else. I cannot change their rate of healing nor aid it, I can only move on.
I am a black girl with scars. I wish you would stop staring. I know they are there, I made them myself. Please don’t ask about them. By now, you should have a small idea of what happened.
I am a black girl with scars. I don’t have a heartbreaking story or anything to tell. I don’t live in the projects nor am I a high school dropout. Do not put me in a fucking box.
I am a black girl with scars. My mom asked me if I was proud of them and why I don’t put cocoa butter on them. She looked so ashamed of me. It was like my arm was of the anti-christ. I didn’t know how to tell her that I wasn’t.
I am a black girl with scars. I look at them and they remind me of failure. My inability to succeed at one of the biggest tasks in my life. They remind me.
I am a black girl with scars. I don’t think church will completely heal these scars. Prayer won’t stop you being able to see them. It was not the devil, it was just me.
I am a black girl with scars. Yes, I will acknowledge them. I might side glance at them. The emotions on my face will range. They are there to you as much as they are to me.
I am a black girl with scars. I don’t really know what you expected me to fucking look like. I don’t really understand why you think all mental illness looks the same. You sound messy.
I am a black girl with scars. Some days will be better than others. I didn’t leave bed today until 2 pm. I might have eaten more than an apple today, I’m not sure. It’s really whatever.
I am a black girl with scars. I am not my scars. I am not my scars. I can say that as much as I want but I’m not sure if it’ll make any difference. I still want to disappear.
I am a black girl with scars. There is nothing to fetishize about my experience. I am not a couple of words on a piece of clothing. I am not ‘emo’ nor is my mental illness ‘cute’. You sound even messier.
I am a black girl with scars. I am black before I am my scars. I still fight for my rights. My melanin is always on fleek fool. Don’t even think about saying otherwise.
I am a black girl with scars. I have a cat named Pepperoni. I still hang out with my squad and go to work. I still am kind of stable. I have to keep moving forward regardless.
I am a black girl with scars. I am tired. I dislike myself some days and others I am in love with who I have grown to be. I don’t expect too much from day to day life but I’m here. That’s all that matters.