This one reminds me of the day I fell off the stairs and my knee started bleeding and I cried and sobbed in my mom's arms. Our house smelled of chocolate pudding.
The other one reminds me of my job as counter-hand in Brisbane, where I had to use the slicer to slice some onions for the delicious focaccias we sold in the deli store. I cut my forefinger and Melissa, the manager, made a fuzz. My finger tasted of onions and iron.
These others remind me of the razor blade that I used to cut in my arms and see the blood run down my hands to relieve the pain I felt and did not understand. My bed room was yellow and green and smelled of weed.
These scars I like best.
Zmeks | via Tumblr
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