Wednesday, 2 November 2016

scar stories

if you have seen my instagram stories you’d notice that i hurt myself quite frequently in the month of october, which poignantly, is my birth month. i cut my finger pretty bad at work, but it already healed now.



last weekend, in the absolute rush for malaysian night; trying to iron my hijab and talking to arissa on the phone at the same time, i accidentally burned my hand while trying to pick up the mighty hot iron without looking at it. well, i know. serves me right.

it didn’t hurt that much at first but girl i was wrong. a few hours later, that’s probably the only thing i kept uttering throughout the night. pain.



i’ve always been an admirer of scars somehow. they intrigued me. i like knowing there are stories behind every scar. back in high school, sometimes i’d deliberately scrape my hands with sharp things just to have a long, bad-ass looking scar. omg i know, i sound like a cracked girl. 

but it’s true. i do have a thing with these kinds of things. but never once i thought of it as an act of self-harming. i didn’t do it because i was feeling depressed or anything. i just like having scars sometimes. and if you’re close to me, you’d know how i am crazy with the idea of getting injected while most people loath it with all their hearts.

being the youngest kid, i still like to, you know, tell people that i got hurt and then listen to them consoling me. well, some of them. hahaha

nad: “the scar will heal over the years”
mai, diyana, and nina: “scars are beautiful”
sheera: “scars are survival stories”
boys: “nanti jatuh saham nak kahwin!”

well thanks, guys. i appreciate the attention you all gave to me. <3




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