I have always been looking to leave a mark, whatever I’m doing.

I bit deep enough to leave bruises, scratched my name into a lover’s chest, left tangible reminders of me behind and walked off with T-shirts that smelled like them.

When I was born I left my mother a C-section scar, and years later a kitchen accident left me with a raised burn scar on one shoulder, but I can’t remember the physical pain like I can emotional scars that come back at the scent of something, a word, a story, a voice.

I tattooed words and pictures into my skin to remind me of things that I’d never forget anyway.

In a larger way, I look to leave my mark on the world as well. I write stories and essays and little bits of ephemera like this, something that can’t quite be characterized but expresses how I feel, how I am at one moment. Which is never quite the same as the next moment. I finish writing something down only to realize that it’s changed.

Change is good, healthy.

But the scars remain.

Posted: April 2nd, 2008 under Dreams, Writing.
Comments: 1