Don't Ask, You Don't Understand.
"What happened to your arm?" A sensible question asked.
I glanced down at my wrist and stare at the mocking, faded marks.
"The cat scratched me," A sensible lie just to get the woman staring at me off my back.
"That must be one feisty cat," she mutters before giving me a questionable glance.
"Yeah. It sure is," I say glancing off to the side.
I hate when people do this to me.
"How did you get those scars?" A girl in class asks.
"My cat doesn't like it when you hold her close," I mutter writing down my answer on the paper.
The questions I get asked daily.
"I had a cat that did that, he didn't scratch me that much though," she says tracing a finger along my wrist.
I pull my arm away quickly and stare at her.
"Leave me alone. I've got work to do," I spat.
The marks embarrass me greatly.
"Are you holding your promise?" she asked looking right into my eyes.
"Yes, Lex, I am," I say pulling up my jacket sleeve and revealing my marred arm.
"No more blades?" she say making sure I'm not lying to her again.
"None. I told you, I'm recovering," I whisper, glancing around to make sure that no one is watching.
She's been my rock.
She's been stopping me.
She's helping me out of this self centered hell.
"Good," she whispers and kisses my cheek.
I glanced down at my wrist and stare at the mocking, faded marks.
"The cat scratched me," A sensible lie just to get the woman staring at me off my back.
"That must be one feisty cat," she mutters before giving me a questionable glance.
"Yeah. It sure is," I say glancing off to the side.
I hate when people do this to me.
"How did you get those scars?" A girl in class asks.
"My cat doesn't like it when you hold her close," I mutter writing down my answer on the paper.
The questions I get asked daily.
"I had a cat that did that, he didn't scratch me that much though," she says tracing a finger along my wrist.
I pull my arm away quickly and stare at her.
"Leave me alone. I've got work to do," I spat.
The marks embarrass me greatly.
"Are you holding your promise?" she asked looking right into my eyes.
"Yes, Lex, I am," I say pulling up my jacket sleeve and revealing my marred arm.
"No more blades?" she say making sure I'm not lying to her again.
"None. I told you, I'm recovering," I whisper, glancing around to make sure that no one is watching.
She's been my rock.
She's been stopping me.
She's helping me out of this self centered hell.
"Good," she whispers and kisses my cheek.
♠ ♠ ♠
If some of you don't already know, I struggled with self harm a few months ago, but now I'm recovering due to my dear friend Lex. I made a deal with her to stop and I've been clean for a month now. I still have scars on my left wrist and my hips though and so I deal with the questions about what happened to my arm and I still lie and say that the cat did it. If you're struggling with self harm, please, please, please, find someone to help you out. It's an unhealthy addiction and I don't recommend anyone continue something like that. For me, when I look back on my scars, I realize that they're going to be there for a long time and they're there to embarrass me daily.