I wasn't asking about your scars to be rude I just have a ton of scars myself on both the front and back of my arms and I haven't worn short sleeves in two years not even at home and im sick of it but im scared of what people will say to me if I wear short sleeves
Your scars are part of you now ♥ I hate that I have scars and I hate what people may think when they see them but I get hot at my job so I can’t always wear sleeves. Just try wearing short sleeves. People will surprise you. I get a few comments every now and then but I brush them off. You just gotta remember the scars are a part of who you are if someone can’t accept that fuck them.. the scars show you survived a hard battle.
You asked me if I wanted to get drunk and stay the night, and I said yes, and we ending up just lying there in bed, my head resting on your chest, thinking about all the parties we didn’t go to or the roads we didn’t turn down or the words we never said because we thought they sounded too foolish or romantic or silly. And eventually we came to the conclusion that there’s always gonna be the nights when we break down in the car by ourselves listening to The Smiths in a dark, empty parking lot, or the days when even opening our eyes requires more effort than dragging someone out of a burning building.
But then your hand drifted down and it rested over my heart, and we sat there like that for a while, smoking, the city outside just breathing and breathing, over and over again, all the lights out there symbolizing college girls pinching their skin in the mirror or two elderly people falling in love for what feels like the millionth time. The awkward first dates at coffee shops and the librarians who go home and watch porn for two hours every night. You told me all these extraordinary things were happening every day and that sometimes it didn’t matter what road we didn’t take or the things we never said because somewhere out there, there was another couple lying in a shabby little bed with only a few covers, touching each others’ skin and trying to feel alright again when everything was crashing down on them.
I want you to have sex with me, but more importantly, I want you to tell me your deepest thoughts at 3 am, and get goosebumps when I kiss your ear, and hold my hand when I’m nervous. I want for you to read me your favorite books, and to help me study. I want you