Scars Sublime

As with all freaks of nature, I have scars to prove my trials.

 

When I was in kindergarten, a little boy named Jason was picking on me in the lunch line.  He shoved his tray at me, and I shoved back.  He then shoved me up against the nearby rail in the lunch room.  I got two bruises from this incident, which my parents immediately inquired about upon seeing them that evening.  I told them what had happened, and we all figured that was the end of it.

I developed chicken pox the next day.  And I admit, I was scratching all kinds of places I shouldn’t be scratching, including my back.  Most people would have had a few small, circular scars left over from this illness.

So what happened to me?  My bruises scarred over.  I have two large oval shaped scars on my back that have spread over the years since.  They itch like hell.  Once in a while, I toy with the idea of getting something tattooed over them.

I’ve always contended that to live is to “walk with scars sublime.” The Goo Goo Dolls back in the day sang that “the scars are souvenirs you never lose…the past is never far.” And the past can certainly be part of the present with my particular obsessive disorder.

I’ve already discussed my disgust with a certain individual in my past. The one who clearly didn’t know what the word “no” meant. I’ve yet to delve into the scars left by a much longer relationship. I need to somehow go beyond these hurtful words and incidents, to learn what it is to forgive.  I may never forget, but I have to move on.

The scars might be indelible but I have to learn from them, lest the years should lose their meaning.