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Scars


I don't remember very clearly when or why I did it for the first time.

But I still remember the feeling.

I was devastated. Broken to bits. Hurt because of something.

To an extent where I blocked out every single noise occurring around me.


It was my birthday. Or maybe was it a few days before or after that.

I don't remember anything.



My vision blurry with tears. It was somewhere in between dusk and night.

I remember hearing the booming sound of Azaan, seconds after I locked myself up in the overly lit bathroom.


I remember furiously slamming the edges of it against the white porcelain of my bathroom sink.

I kept slamming it, smashing it until the plastic exterior broke off.

I didn't feel any good when it happened.

I was scared and horrified of what I was going to do.

But more than that, I was hurt. 

And nothing, at that specific moment could overpower that immense pain.


It felt like someone had ripped my heart out of it's place and carelessly thrown it aside.

I couldn't scream, because that would alert my mom.

And I didn't want her to know.


I had no one to turn to. Because the ones I tried turning to for comfort, brushed it off like it was nothing.

I was left alone.

To deal with the gut wrenching pain, that was destroying my insides like a raging storm.


So I chose pain.

To put a halt to my internal pain, I chose external pain.


I remember hyperventilating like crazies, while I did it. And I remember pulling myself together.

Enough to visit some relatives with my parents, just hours after that.


I remember the feeling of my raw silk material of my dress brushing against my upper arm, just inches below my shoulder.

I remember nervously, repeatedly rearranging my scarf so that the stain over the orange sleeve of my dress would be draped away from the eyes of the on-lookers.

Because I was scared. I was scared that someone who saw it, would ridicule me for that.


That night, I would give anything for someone to hold me tight. 

And, just tell me I was fine.


Because I could not brush off every hurtful incident thrown at my way like everyone else.

I still cannot.

Does that make me weak?




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