She hasn’t hurt in a while,
it has been a year and half since she last dug into herself.
She wants to stop. She wants to be able to breathe.
But her skin still itches at the hint of a sad song or a broken memory.
She doesn’t want to quit to prove that she is strong enough to overcome this addiction,
nor because she is sick of her scars,
nor to erase the memory of friends looking hard to make sure there was no marks,
nor to be a stonger person, a healthier person,
nor to finally get a grip on reality.
But because maybe she shouldn’t be a teacher.
maybe she shouldn’t me a mother.
What happens when those kids ask her about her s