Do you want to know how I think scars are made? You have a wound; an emotional wound. It’s fresh. It’s bleeding. You try to stop the bleeding by telling yourself everything is going to be alright. The bleeding stops eventually. It tries to heal overnight – that’s when you’re asleep. Your wound starts to heal for the better. You wake up and the pain hits you. The constant pain is there; bugging you and tormenting you. You try to ignore it by distracting yourself. Time passes. Time lets it heal.
One day you’re alone, so you return to the wound and you start to remember. You start picking at it and every memory etches across the wound like tiny pricks, just enough to make it bleed again. The bleeding eventually stops when the wound is forgotten and the cycle repeats. The wound never heals fully. It leaves a deeper crater with every revisit. Time goes on and more wounds are created. With each and every one, the feeling of desolation becomes endless. Eventually we are just waiting for these voids; these craters, to be filled by someone or something, in search to make us whole again. And this is how scars are truly made. They are simply the perfect depiction of how empty we truly are.