Scars

In the Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, Katiniss has all of her scars erased after winning the games. The scars that marked her hands from years of hunting, and even the scar she acquired in the games, were just wiped away.

I was bothered by this. I love scars. I love looking at my knees and seeing all of the marks, all of the bumps and discolored skin that tells the story of scrapes and bumps. I love looking at my hands and the various nicks that were once there, and remembering what happened. I love looking at my ankles and seeing the various scars, some small and some large.

I have a scar on my knee that is shaped like Africa. Its from when I was first learning to ride a bike without training wheels. I think it was my 7th birthday. Maybe right after. Anyways, I was unsteadily riding around the parking lot of the school across the street from my house. My cousin, who is two years younger than me, was still riding his bike with training wheels and was zipping around. He cut in front of me I fell of my bike. The scrape/cut was terrible. It got infected and I had to keep it covered. Every day for a week a girl in my class asked me what happened and everyday I told her, until I snapped and told her she had already asked me too many times. It did finally heal, and it wasn't until years later that I realised it looked like Africa, but there it sits on my right knee, barely visible.

My hands don't have as many noticeable scars. One of them is from Thanksgiving one year. It was the first time I had used a really nice, sharp knife. In any event I ended up cutting my finger, not a lot, but enough to leave a scar on my left index finger. When I see it I remember years of Thanksgivings at my Uncle's, hanging out with my cousin and hiding from family members. It makes me think of how much I loved Thanksgiving as a kid. It makes me miss the way things were.

My ankles are covered with scars. Most of them from shaving. But one of them is a thin line on the inside of my right foot, by the ankle. Its barely noticeable. Its from the first time I gave my cat a bath. I was sitting in the bathtub in shorts and a t-shirt and I was holding onto him. He was thrashing about, as I should have expected him too. His back claws cut a clean line across my ankle. It hurt so bad at the time. But it was such a clean wound. I wouldn't have expected it to scar, but there it sits.

Not all scars are physical though. Katniss also had mental scars. She lost her father, had to care for her family, lost Rue and now has to deal with nightmares of the games. These scars, unlike the ones on her body, will never go away. I too have mental scars. These are not as easy to see, but if you talk to me for any amount of time, or try to get to know me in any capacity, you will see them. Eventually they become glaringly obvious.

The first one, the one that might be the most hidden because it happened years ago, is the loss of my best friend. This event, this scenario, has shaped many of my feelings and perspectives on the world. I spent a long time trying to forget about everything that happened my freshman year of high school. I lost myself. I was changed for good. I grew up in a strange way, in a way I wasn't actually able to handle. Its so hard for me to access these feelings. I let someone drive a wedge between my sister and I, I promised myself to never let that happen again. Its something I actively work on, I actively make sure no one goes there. I try not to let anyone have any control over my life, because I was so out of control freshman year. I don't want anyone to have that power over me. This is something I try to do and fail miserably at every time. Several people have control over me in some way. But perhaps I feel that if I am the one to give it up, then I deserve whats coming to me. I am slightly more closed off. I am detached. These scars show themselves, if you dig hard enough, but to the naked eye they are not always visible.

My other mental scars include death. The deepest one is the death of my grandmother. I am not sure why I am so deeply affected by her death. She was the first person I really lost, but her death was not dramatic or violent. She died of congestive heart failure. She died in her home, in my grandfathers arms. I am very bitter about her death. And very bitter about what caused it - years of smoking cigarettes. This scar is not hard to see. A person, if they play their cards right, can ignite my feelings about this topic within a matter of minutes.

I have lots of physical scars and a few mental scars. These scars, these marks, they all have stories that go with them. I don't always like these scars, like I said, I can't be a stripper, and I might be a little damaged in terms of my interactions with others and my personal demons. But I wouldn't trade these things for anything. These scars, these stories, have helped compile me and make me into who I am. To erase them, to forget, would be throwing away the pieces of the puzzle and that is something I would never want to do, no matter what.