Cacti are just roses, except they're all thorn and no petals.
I know I should’ve waited till your birthday but I simply couldn’t wait! These are technically your Christmas presents so nyeh =P. Enclosed are some bandaids because bandaids are fun. I am sorry about my sloppy/childish-looking handwriting…. Anyways, I’m so excited for when I get to live with you (even if it’s just temporary)… (or not temporary, we’ll see when we get there)… I don’t know what else to put on this letter that you haven’t known already! Hmm, what should we do on the first day we meet each other? I’ll let you decide on that! I’m probably gonna get my book readin’ on, mmmm-hmmm lol. I think it’s best if I pack only the essentials and start anew. It’ll be tough without a car, but maybe I can borrow your bike or do lots of online courses until then. You can’t imagine how happy I am to have you open all these new doors for me. I’m gonna be the best girlfriend I can be.
I won’t let you down~
<3 Kitty <3
The envelope was decorated with stickers and had a bright red lipstick imprint of a kiss on it. As expected, 5 adhesive bandage strips slipped out, of varying designs ranging from cupcakes to sushi, among others. Out of boredom, I ripped them from their packaging and placed them on any noticeable scars I had. I laid one across the burn mark that I had on my wrist, an injury caused when my brother and I were playing with a hot iron as toddlers. In an act of trust, I jokingly placed my hand on the ironing board as he held the iron, inwardly hoping he would go through with it, a test of love. I knew the iron was hot and I mainly watched him play with it for a bit, hovering it above any fabric he brought over yet amazingly not burning them. Even though it was an act of imitation, it looked as if he were taught better, maybe trained at an incredibly young age. I was looking down at my hand, thinking it was silly thing to do in the first place, waiting for him to tell me to move it away. I was unaware that my brother saw an opportunity to teach me a lesson that big brothers were meant to teach and to maybe satiate a curiosity embedded within all children- how far can you go when it comes to hurting someone. He didn’t hover the iron above my hand, but pressed it as hard as he could as I screamed out in agony. The earliest memory I ever had was of immense pain.
Another bandaid was soothed over another burn mark that I had on my lower shin. I was reading outside in the sun in an awkward position, my lower shin on hot cement. It felt warm so I hadn’t bothered to move it- but when I did, I realized I just cooked myself a bit without knowing it.
A few covered some scars across my knees- I got them because I kept lifting my knees up on a desk that had sharp edges. One of the scars was from falling onto asphalt when playing basketball in middle school, which didn’t recover because my friends kept kicking it. A teacher watched and flinched when I toppled over, but ultimately decided it wasn’t her place to get involved.
The last one was on the opposing shin that housed my cement fried burn. It was a small cut that I sustained from walking through reeds while hiking a long time ago. I was negligent and didn’t wear jeans that day.
After making sure each bandage laid flat, I laid there, staring at the letter I wrote earlier this year. The box that I pulled it from had a Minecraft creeper figure, a Minecraft paper origami set, and a pokemone figurine, specifically a flareon. I picked those out so he could decorate his desk with, something he often sent pictures of. I looked at the part where it said “I won’t let you down~”, feeling it’s sting of irony set in. I wished for a bandaid big enough to cover this invisible wound that he left, one with a mile long bright, fun-filled pattern.
I realized there was a pattern to all my scars that I sustained throughout the years. None of them were self inflicted, yet all of them were received from recklessly believing the notion that nothing could hurt me. Why would someone you love hurt you or why would doing something seemingly harmless cause any injury? I didn’t watch out for myself- in return, I paid for it. I loved and enjoyed life without walls, trusted people without holding back. I was innocent and naive.
A week back I dated a guy who passively made dampening remarks about my body. I felt like I was never good enough. It didn’t start that way, but progressed after we had sex. Being penetrated caused pain that twisted through the knots in my belly. I practiced breathing through it, enduring enough so he could have his fill. After searching the web, I self diagnosed myself with Vaginismus because all the symptoms and descriptions fit. I wish I could see a doctor to verify it, but y’know, that would cost a fortune and a half. In any case, I dumped him. He said he had thoughts of dumping me to begin with, and wanted to go over it in person while walking through a park. I saved him some gas money and time by preemptively doing it over the phone. The thought of him having to drag me through a park while I bawl my eyes out in order to end things “the right way”, as if break ups needed a formal event, made me roll my eyes. I’m glad it’s over.
But it changed me. I no longer pine for a man’s affection or long to be in a relationship. It no longer interests me as much. I feel my sexual desire plummeting too. I rarely masturbate anymore and looking at erotic material makes me nostalgic, not horny. If I see any on my dash, I merely see it and evaluate it’s aesthetics, the shape of the body or how well it’s drawn. It doesn’t excite me the way it used to.
Where am I going with this? Oh yeah, I’m gonna burn the envelope and letter. It feels like the right thing to do. If there are new doors, I will open them myself. I was never one to obey “waiting” periods after a break up, so there’s something I don’t need to change. I feel like I’m tolerating less and less bullshit every day and I’m also a bit more self aware. Now that I know the danger inherent in the harmless, won’t have any more scars of the same type in the future anymore.