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Sunday, September 15, 2019

This is the [blog] I'm too scared to write...

This post has a severe trigger warning. Read at your own risk.
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Minds forget, scars remember,
 - Mother Aughra, The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance

And it's easy to forget where you've been
I guess that's what the scars are for, huh?

 - "Under the Knife" by Icon For Hire

The scars on my chest and shoulders have faded, but they're not ones I regret. They're fond memories of cats climbing on me, the inevitable slipping and instinctual grabbing on of claws.

The scars on my hands and arms are still fading, but they're trophies of hard and grueling work. Nothing to bemoan, nothing to regret, nothing to remember.

My legs tell a different story. They remind me of days when the pain inside my head could only be tempered by pain felt elsewhere. Those are not memories I could forget if I tried. Nigh two decades of pain created who I am today, they define me as much as the art I created. And the demons still wail at the door; they haven't been banished, they haven't left me, they're just... waiting.

The temptation is still there too. In moments of weakness, in moments where I feel like I have no control... to skin open my legs again, to force myself to feel, to drive the madness away with dripping red lines.

I'm no stranger to showing my vulnerabilities to this blog, but I've never talked about my self harm here, or anywhere outside a therapist's office, so this is a new level for me.


The moment that you feel that, just possibly, you're walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself. That's the moment you may be starting to get it right.
 - Neil Gaiman, "Make Good Art"

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And yes, I totally binged DC:AoR and it was definitely worth it.

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