When There's So Much Light, Why Do I Feel So Dark?

Good Morning Self.

Are your scars impressive? Kele has this thing about saying that people's scars are really really impressive... and are your's not? It's not even a question with an objection, just a pure knowledge question I suppose. Are they impressive? Or are they merely weak? Have I not matched my tragedy levels with the marks on my arms?

I think that's rather silly, to be honest, if we are going to measure tragedy levels by the scars we bear. I'm stronger than always cutting myself. I have scars that people will never see, that they will never understand. Like why Mexicans really make me afraid and anxious, and why the name Kevin makes me shudder to some suppressed degree. Why I'll never put any of my children into a daycare, or why many songs make me cry. Why the smell of burning cederwood makes me want to curl up into a corner, or why I'll never live in someone's basement nor will I own a house with a basement. Scars like why I want so badly to be accepted, to be cared for. Why I have such respect for women and believe so highly in chivalry, and yet at the same time have such low self-esteem.

Scars like why I'll never believe you when you tell me I'm beautiful.

Most of my scars will never be seen, but they're there.

And they're impressive.

~Alisa

PS: And over the rainbow, there is a world of gray's. That's where I want to go, and that's where I want to be. Take me there?