Tiny, white lines cover her arms.
They crisscross and some of them are at angles,
Some have faded and some are new.
They are all beautiful
To me at least.
It's her constant reminder of everything she has been through
And a reminder of how strong she is.
I trace the scars with my fingertips
She shutters gently and looks away.
I'm so proud of you,
You never, ever gave up hope that tomorrow will be better.
She smiles faintly and kisses her scars.
Her beautiful, white scars that reminds her
That things will get better.

I wanted to tell you how I felt
I wanted you to know what was going through mind, but. . . .
I was afraid
You see,
Being me,
I was afraid
Afraid you won't really understand
Afraid that you have other things on your mind more important than what I'm going through
I was afraid that you would no longer look at me the same way
I was afraid

And so I was silent
I said nothing

And the unspoken words welled up as tears as I lay by myself in bed that night
As they always do when I don't say
What I want to say
What I need to say

It's lonely being afraid
And it's scary to tell someone
That you feel so alone

That's what I was afraid to tell you,
And I was afraid to ask you
"Are you lonely too?"

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if you did an archeological dig
On me
If you dug up my soul and my heart and everything that makes up my non-physical being

Would you find the scars of the major hurts in my life?
The abuse, the loneliness, and the self doubt?


Would you, upon further inspection, see that the former two are formed,
Not only by the first, but by what should be  insignificant actions done by other people
That hammer at my heart
Putting cracks in my self confidence and my self worth
I don't want to hide it, but I do because I don't want you to see this part of me

And if you dug up and analyzed my mind,
would you see all the unkind thoughts I think-
All the pride I carry with me-
in contrast to the constant feeling that
For some reason
I'm not good enough
And the fear

That if you really knew me you would walk, or even run,
In the opposite direction

If you were able to dig into my spirit, and see me
Really see me
And dig up all my thoughts and feelings and secrets
What would you find?
What would you discover that would make you see me differently?
If I were to do the same for you
what would I find?
I'm not quite sure, but what  I do know is this:

That whatever I found, and whatever I discovered, and however differently I saw you
Afterward

Afterward

I would still love you

And sometimes
I wonder
If you dug me up and saw

Everything

Would you still love me?