Life The bus was full tonight, standing room only. I was sitting at the front, girls in summer dresses filling my field of vision. In front was someone with dark brown hair highlighted in magenta and braids. Her arms were bare and I found myself drawn towards her tatoo, something fantasy. It was just below this I noticed the scars. About twenty of them, parallel lines running down towards her elbow and bunched together on her forearm. What is this new compunction to self-mutilation? The cuts here were certainly deep enough to draw blood and didn't look like they had been seen by someone medically. I wondered why she wasn't covering them up, which was the norm. Were they some sort of fashion statement? If so what is she trying to say? Look I can withstand this pain. Are these the only scars. Surely she has plenty within which need treating. I can only hope that neither are permanent. [The Guardian]
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