Seventy Six: Badges of Honour

Used to wear these scars as a reminder of the shame when my weakness shone through, of when I broke and succumbed to the voices of self hatred, of when despondency took over and the only escape was this.

For the few who saw these scars I could sense, feel, smell even their revulsion coming through which almost mirrored the loathing I had for myself. All I knew, all that I had acceded was that each scar hid the ugliness within myself. It almost acted as a protective barrier, preventing others from seeing me from the way which I viewed myself.

But now, these marks no longer bother me. People can look, stare, mutter amongst themselves. But I no longer feel shame, no longer feel obliged to look them in the eye and ask for forgiveness.
And the reason why? Because I wear each scar as a badge of honour, a sense of pride of having come through those dark nights. Each scar I see as a battle I fought with myself and won.

Danny

Seventy One: 2018

Welcome to a new year.

I was sitting doing a mock GCSE, and was bored. So I wrote. I wrote about the empty blanket of snow outside that was waiting for us to mark it, for us to define what it would be. To make pictures with it, or ruin it.

Two Thousand and Eighteen. Welcome to a new year. I kinda feel that way about this year. Continue reading “Seventy One: 2018”

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