Scars.

I have scars. Everyone does. But I have scars that are going to be a very permanent reminder of this period in my life. This time... it's not forever. But my scars are. I have them on my forearms and thigh, and they're going to fade, but not entirely. I hate that I have words etched into my skin that will be a permanent reminder of how f*ucked in the head I've been. I hate that I have a permanent mark to remind me, even on my best days, that I once hated myself so much.

But at the same time, they remind me that I'm stronger now than I was even weeks ago.

So, as much as I regret them, I am proud of my scars. The fact that they're scars, not cuts, reminds me just how far I've come.