Scars

“Scars remind us the past is real” (Papa Roach, Scars). I've got a few scars from over the years. Some with real stories and others with footnotes.


One time, I was riding the Alpine Slide. It might have been the only time. I flipped the sled and was under it on the slide. The fiberglass slide left me a few scars. I got lucky.


There's a scar that goes from one ear to the other and is the story behind Poker Face Off of the Man in the Box. This one makes every haircut interesting.


Recently, I didn't see a curb because of my depth perception issues. I walked right off of it, yelled “oh, shit,” and hit the ground. I got some road rash but it probably won't scar. 


Surgery number nine left me a scar that reminds me to take care of my health even when it scares me. I had an injury that I didn't acknowledge for like five years.


Then there's my Lucky Number Backwards Seven that I shared last week in I'm a Slave 4 U on the Yellow Brick Road.


And finally, some scars are emotional. Most of my scars are emotional. The 24/7 running narrative that I'm not enough is a reason I've never held peace for long. Ironically, I've made peace with that.


My body hurts every day, all day. My heart hurts every day, all day. But, the scars remind me that I am here,

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