Every time I see the now faint lines it brings me back to that moment. The moment where my life didn’t matter anymore and all I could think about was hurting myself. Those scars bring me back to a mindset I once had. I hate those flashbacks. I hate my self harm scars.

I hate my self harm scars.

Every time I see the white scars I get re-triggered. It’s almost tempting to see those scars, especially on hard days. Some days it just feels like it would be easier to rip one of the scars open, a temporary relief. It brings me back to that mindset in the moment. There’s too much on the line now though, it’s not an option for me.

I hate my self harm scars. Every time I see those little lines I think of where I once was, and the battle ahead. But there’s a small part of me that still has a little compassion for those cuts. Those cuts were from a darker time for me, and I survived. Those cuts were from the lowest of my lows, and I made it out. I have come so far, and I am proud of that.