Things hurt; that is forever a given. That seems to be the piece of knowledge no one can escape.
Scars act as a reminder of those givens; a piece, of a fragment, of a morsel of the pain. There was a instance in his life, where no scars were bare on him. He was blank as a white piece of paper; no rough edges, no lines scribbled. Yet a day approached him in his adolescence where he suffered the worst scar he’ll ever come to experience. He was on the phone with her, listening to her silence, hoping what was playing in his head wouldn’t sing out of her mouth; he guessed wrong. The words didn’t hit him like bricks or knives; rather they were an earthquake that shattered a crevice into his being. He hit the red button, ending not only a conversation but a time in his life. And the only reminder he will have is the divide, caused by an earthquake, manipulated by a woman.
(I’m back ladies and gents.. time to write some emotions)