My scars are a story…

People would tell me when I was a kid to not pick my scabs because, I would hate my all my scars when I get older. But now I’m 19, I don’t hate them one bit.

My skin is just naturally prone to scarring. If I pick a scab or don’t, I’ll end up with a scar. That’s just my life.

I have scars on my knees and elbows from learning how to ride a bike. I have a scar on ankle from falling into a sprinkler hole. I have a scar on my thigh from when I got burned by a pot on the stove. I have scars all over my legs from when I would stepped on ant piles as a kid. 

Some fade, some don’t. Some are keloids, some are not. Some are big, some are small. Some I wish would be different, some I actually kinda like.

But I don’t hate any of them them. They are a part of me, my traits. They are ice breakers, they are stories. They are my past put on my skin and I get to share it with everyone I encounter. 

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