I love scars. Yes, they are ugly, they make you look ugly, and they are just ugly. But that is not why I love scars. I love them because they remind me of happy days and happy people.
Like this one I have on my left knee which I got when I was in 4th year
high school. We were playing basketball and it was really exciting. I can feel the adrenaline rushing through me when I lost my balance and landed on the concrete. I hate that when the wound was still fresh, it hurts so badly and I had to clean it well. There was even a time when it got infected. It did not go well, I’m telling you. Of course, I hate that my knee has a scar on it, but I love the scar itself. Why? Because it reminds me of high school, how much fun I had, the awesome people I spent it with, the dramas, the laughter, the graduation ceremony, the not-so-great graduation song, the school projects, the prom, and everything. Basically, it reminds me of
Not all scars remind us of pure joy, but that’s the beauty of it. I also get to
remember the mistakes, the pain, the heartaches, the sorrow and of
course, I remember how I dealt with all of these. I get to be reminded how I healed.
The thing with scars is that they will stay forever on your skin. Like I said,
they remind me of moments once I see them. The memories just play into
my mind. But then there are wounds that we do not see. Wounds that leave
scars. Scars that we do not see. And since I do not see them, I am not
reminded. Once the pain the wound caused is no longer there, I can no
longer feel it. I can no longer see it. There are scars, but I can’t see them. I don’t have any reminder. Here comes the struggle, I start to forget and I do not want to forget the happy moments. Who would want to forget those memories? I only saw one remedy.
Once the wound starts to heal and the pain starts to go away, I would start scratching it until the wound becomes open once again. Sometimes, I scratch it roughly until blood can be seen again, pain can be felt once again. And then I am reminded. I remember. I remember everything. The pain, the sorrow the heartache, the tears and the happy moments just before all that. The pain was worth it because I did not forget. I still remember everything. I
It does not end there though. Because the wound will start to heal again. I
am about to lose my reminder. So I start scratching once again. Repeating the process until the pain becomes so strong that I remember everything once again. It is unending. I cannot escape. I don’t want to forget. This is the only way I can remember. I have no scars to see, so I am left with wounds to feel.
Perhaps I am a masochist because I have enjoyed this for quite
some time. Until now. I just got tired. I was busy scratching my wounds to feel the pain, only to be reminded of the happiness I felt before. I was addicted to the ecstasy that the past gives me that I no longer see what’s in front of me. I keep looking at the scars of the past, that I forgot that I would still be getting new wounds. I am not sure how I woke up from the wound-scratching slumber. Maybe it was the fact that I have been missing a lot of awesome moments because I was preoccupied with remembering amazing memories. How and when? It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad that all I have are scars. I figured, it’s impossible to forget. The wound that hurt no longer hurts, but i will remember. Because you did not leave me a scar, you are the scar that I do not see. No need for pain, just you would be enough. I don’t see you but I know you’ll always be there. I guess this makes no sense at all but it makes sense to me. And that’s all that matters.