Just Scars

The razor blade slid slowly across her skin. Not too deep. Just enough to see the crimson pearl upward and to feel the sting of pain. She bit her lip as another line of little red pearls appeared next to the first.
The pain washed over her like an aphrodisiac. This was what she wanted to feel. The pain of her failures. She deserved this for she was not like everyone else. She was an outcast. A loner.
A hiss of pain on the next cut into her skin. A little too deep and a shudder of fear washed through her as the thought came; what if I just cut all the way down. Let the blood flow until she just went to sleep in a pool of red regret.
She tossed the bloody blade into the sink and sat there, tears streaming down her face.
Loser.
Yeah she heard that today.
She heard it so much she believed them now. Why not.
Her fingers ran over the scars on her arm. Long sleeves tomorrow for sure. She had been asked more than once about the scars. She just said; just scars, that's all they were.
No big deal . But that was a lie. A big lie.
A tear slid down her cheek and with a spurt of anger she grabbed a black eyeliner pencil from her makeup bag on the counter and began to write on the mirror. When she was done she stepped back and admired her work.
Not bad.
She felt a little better when she snapped a picture of her words.Take that world. Fuck You.

They aren't just scars.
They are the demons I fought at 3am.
They are my insecurities, my deepest fears
and my lonely nights.
They are the insults I have received
and the emotions I cannot contain.
They are a part of me
and are what I have become.