To the Person Who Pointed and Laughed at My Self-Harm Scars
I’m sorry you have grown up this way, to not see me for who I really am, to not see past the scars on my arms.
I am aware they aren’t nice to look at, but why should I have to cover them up when it’s 17 degrees outside?
I’m sorry if my scars seem to offend you. No, I take that back. What I am sorry for is your ignorance. That you are able to stare, laugh and then whisper to your friends, “Ew, look at her arms!”
Yes, I heard you. I may have a mental illness, but that doesn’t mean I cannot hear.
I’m sorry you can’t think, “Wow, she must have gone through a lot,” instead of laughing and pointing at me as I go past.
My head already tells me I’m ugly every single day. I don’t need you to comment, too.
You know what I’ve learned from you in the short five seconds I have known you?
That you and people like you will make me braver and stronger. Next time, I’ll be able to go the whole journey without my jacket on or to go to more public places showing my scars.
Your comments will not knock me down. For I stand tall, above the waves that may or may not knock me down. I will try because not trying will get me no further forward.
If you or someone you know needs help, visit our suicide prevention resources page.
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