Written 2/26/09, sophomore year of college.
I’ve been looking at these scars lately, faded yet present. I’ve been looking at their random-nature and how precisely they present themselves. If i could name them all I would. Attach one to a moment in time, call them out on their past. They sew a story of guilt on my body, but everyone looks at it with a blank stare. I look at it with a blank stare. Sometimes, we must ignore that point when the life story halts, not as if you died, but your perspective did. Suddenly, in my mind, I am the largest being on earth, bigger than mountains, and the sun is spinning around my head. But no one sees me. Not the bird watchers, binoculars in hand. Not even the cloud interpreters, imagination in the sky. No one sees my massiveness — no one at all. That is the moment I realize I am a projection upon the backdrop of the sky. I am merely an image of shadows holding back the sun from giving us light. Or was I the sun? All I hear now is the voice of reason, manifest in my mother’s clothes. She tells me the truth with her eyes. I look at these scars again, now fresh wounds. They bleed for a moment until the world spins faster and faster. The scars close up. They fade into my skin, taking minutes not months, not years. I no longer remember.