Scars. They are etched onto our skin, each telling a silent story of battles fought, journeys traveled, and life lived. For some, they are hidden reminders of painful memories, while for others, they are badges of honor, testaments to survival and strength. When you first meet Alex, one of the first things you might notice is a prominent scar. It’s a part of him, as much as his smile or his voice. Inevitably, the question arises, whispered or spoken aloud: how did Alex get his scar?
For years, Alex deflected the question with humor or vague answers. “Oh, this old thing? Just a run-in with a rogue vacuum cleaner,” he might quip, or simply, “It’s a long story.” He wasn’t ashamed of the scar itself, but the story felt heavy, personal, and not always easy to share with casual acquaintances. He noticed the looks, the curiosity, sometimes even pity. Were people truly unaware that scars are a common part of the human experience, each with its own unique origin? Or was it simply easier to accept a lighthearted lie than to delve into something potentially uncomfortable?
Like the lyric says, “My scars remind me that the past is real.” Alex’s scar is a map of a moment in time, a physical manifestation of an event that shaped him. It represents a journey, a challenge overcome. It’s a piece of his life story etched onto his skin. Some might view scars as unwanted blemishes, reminders of events they wish to erase. But for Alex, his scar is not a source of pain or regret. Looking at it doesn’t trigger agony or self-reproach. It simply exists, a factual mark on his body, no more and no less. He doesn’t apologize for it; it is simply a part of who he is.
He wouldn’t say he’s proud of the scar in a celebratory way. Sometimes, when he catches sight of it in the mirror, a wave of complex emotions washes over him – perhaps a flicker of anger at the circumstances, a pang of sadness for his younger self, or even a quiet frustration that things had to happen the way they did. Yet, intertwined with these feelings is an undeniable sense of pride. Pride in his resilience, in his ability to heal, both physically and emotionally. This pride isn’t about the scar itself, but about the journey it represents. There are times, too, when a shadow of fear crosses his mind. A fear of vulnerability, a fear of revisiting difficult times, a fear of the strength it took to heal being tested again.
But here’s the truth Alex wants to share: please don’t be afraid of the mark you see. It’s okay to notice it. It’s okay to be curious about how Alex got his scar. He doesn’t mind sharing his story, when the time is right and with those who approach with genuine openness and respect. Please don’t look away in discomfort or embarrassment. It is through open conversations and honest acknowledgment that we can truly understand each other and the diverse experiences that shape us. Scars, whether visible or hidden, are often associated with shame and secrecy. But they shouldn’t be.
It’s okay that this happened to Alex. There’s no need to wish you could “take it away” or erase his past. His scar is a testament to his journey, a journey that has undeniably shaped him into the person he is today. This journey, with all its challenges and triumphs, is woven into the fabric of his being. He chooses not to dwell in the past, but he will never deny or forget where he has come from. He is fiercely grateful for the present moment, for the strength he has gained, and for the life he is living. So, when you see his scar, don’t look at it with pity. Instead, recognize it as a symbol of resilience, a mark of a survivor standing before you, ready to share his story, in his own time, and on his own terms.
