Carved in Scars

by Elle Mitchell

she nervously tucks a stray piece behind her ear before looking away. I watch, jealous of her own fingers brushing against her ear and trailing down her neck.

“Because I like being in your orbit. And I want to know where you go.”

“You always look like you’re somewhere else in your head, and I want to know where that is.”

We all come into the world as blank canvases. And we leave it carved in scars—some we show the world and others that remain invisible unless someone knows exactly where to look—but they make us who we are, whether we want them to or not.

We come into the world as blank canvases—all of us. Innocent, eager for love. Then the world gets ahold of us and leaves us with scars we don’t deserve, that we never asked for. But like I said before, it feels better to let it out, even if it’s only temporary. 4

“You’re mine now. And I take care of what’s mine. All right?”

I watch her sing along to my playlist with her hand out the window, moving it as if surfing through the cool night air as we drive.

But the scars made me who I am, whether I wanted them to or not. And I’m happy with who I am now.

The things that happened to me changed me, but they don’t have to be the sum of who I am. I can be etched in ink instead of carved in scars. I can be happy; I’m worthy of love. I can tell my story. I can bring joy to others through my art and try to make a difference in small ways for someone else when it matters.

Etched in ink or carved in scars. It’s us. Against the world.