Remember this?  And how I have scars because yes, for years I cut myself. I have scars, really intense, embarrassing, bad scars. They’re really deep and obvious. I know they are there and I see them every day and most of the time, I wish they were gone.  Sometimes, I’m proud of them.  They’re battle wounds and I made it through.  I made it.

The boy I’ve been seeing doesn’t seem to feel the same way.  After spending a significant amount of time together this weekend, and it was lovely, we did a lot of things together and I even got to pet a donkey  and a horse.  Yippee.  He sent me a text message 5 minutes after I left to tell me that he doesn’t think he can justify my scars to his kids, but he had a lovely time and I’m a great person………………(I need more dots for emphasis of ridiculousness).  Are you fucking kidding me?  Seriously?  You don’t want to be with me because of my scars?  Or that’s what you say?  I know this is a cop out reason, but to tell me it’s because of something so personal and so dear to me.  I had to force myself to love every single scar and become okay with them.  I feel like I was just side swiped by a semi.  I know, I know, good riddance.  But, it’s not like that.  I feel afraid now.  What if no one ever loves me through the scars?