Knucklehead

Often in movies

people are reassured

that one mistake will not define their entire life.

It can’t.

But i’m worried that mine will.

I’ve always considered myself

a person who loves to swim.

I love swimsuits and I’m not self conscious

about how they look on me.

But now I’m scared to be seen in one.

I’ve never imagined myself

getting a tattoo

because I’m too scared of commitment

to mark my body forever.

But it feels like I have to.

My last relapse was the worst decision I’ve ever made.

I have keloids that will never fade

I can’t wear shorts because I’m scared of disappointing my mother

who makes me promise to “never be one of those weird kids who cut themselves.”

I’m forcing myself to think of tattoo ideas to cover up this patch of shame on my thigh:

A tattoo that will disappoint my mother

So I don’t have to disappoint my mother

Funny.

I am trying to find a solution to this mistake

but sometimes all I can think about

is making it again.

On this college campus 52 miles from home,

no one knows who I am.

And everything is so tough.

I’m not saying that I am defined by the scars on my legs

Because I know that I’m not.

I know that I’m loved

and I know that I’m loving

And friendly and funny

And trying SO HARD to be happy.

But I’ve just recently realized

that these scars are a lifelong commitment,

one of my only regrets.

I’m worried they have drastically changed who I am

and who I’m going to become.

This poem is about: 
Me

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