now, i’m thankful that i can say, i don’t look a thing like this poor girl right now. i do, however, have a variety of bloody scratches and blossoming purple bruises all over my leg thanks to my sister’s lovely dog and her inability to catch sight of her own kind without completely freaking out.
in the process of wearing my battle wounds, i’ve discovered that i’m somewhat taken by them. i’m almost proud to have them, though i don’t have them for any admirable reason. i think it may come from a sense of.. rightness; a feeling that my body should have some small show of evidence that points to what i’m often holding within.
sometimes i feel that, if i were to be beaten to an ugly, bloody pulp, i would finally see reflected in the mirror what it is that i have inside.
that said, i’d rather not be beaten to said pulp! so i’ll take the puppy wounds and my somewhat concerning attachment, thanks.