Sun scars

Sitting outside on the back deck, drinking my tea and chainsmoking. I am alone, so I pull up my skirt so that I can look at my right thigh. There is a shallow cut from the night before last, and several stripes from the razor blades I purchased last night. The sun illuminates my skin and exposes what I couldn’t see before whenever I looked at myself inside – tens of dozens of faded, white scars. Looking at my thigh in my room, I thought that all the cuts I had ever made there just faded away. I was wrong. They are faint, but they are still there. In the sun, I can see all of them. I stroke my thigh with wonder – hello, my old friends. How nice to see you again. I am filled with awe. My hate is still there, exposed on a wide expanse of flesh. How good to be able to see it again.