not a good day.

bad day at work. i know that everyone has a bad day but why do they have to be mean and take it out on those around them. anyways, i walked out, trying to avoid the situation. it wouldn’t have been as bad if it weren’t for that fact that as i was walking down the hall i overheard them saying my name. i slowed down just before i turned the corner and listened. they were making fun of my scars. i know it’s my fault for doing those things to myself. it’s my fault for placing them there, up and down my arms and wrists; thick ones, one that actually needed stitches to close up. i know people stare. i catch them all the time when i’m out but why would you make fun of someone over it? they were saying things like: “have you seen how many…” and “looking for attention…” . now, these scars are old and if they looked at the rest of my body it would give them a lot more to talk about. i’m not ashamed to say it,  some of the first ones indeed where for attention. a lot of people do. they are a cry for help when you have lost your voice and can’t find the words. but… after a while they are the only way you can filter your pain and anger and sometimes trying to permanently quite the world around. i just wish i could get their words out of my head.