I have many of them.
Scars from the bad times.
The depression, the sadness.
But there are also scars from the good times.
The adventures and the parties.
But it is the scars from the bad times that people notice.
No one pays attention to the stories behind the good scars.
Sadly, it is the bad scars that define me.
They show how weak,
I truly am.
They show that
No matter what life throws at me,
I will always break down.
Unable to handle tough situations.
My scars define me
In ways I wish they didn’t.
I scrub and scrub,
Yet I am still unable to wash them away.
Unable to wash away the judgement.
Unable to clean the memories.
My scars used to define me.
No more will I let this happen.
Now I am defined by my smile.
My passion for life.
My passion for writing.
I am defined by who I love.
I am defined by the way I treat others.
I will no longer be defined by my teenaged years.
By the mistakes I have made in the past.
By the way I handled some bad situations.
I will be defined by who I am.
Not by who I was.
-Shawna L. Ferguson