My scars are my tattoos, each one has a memory, and despite the tragedy that they were, the situations in which they happened were never frightening. I am so happy to have the scars on my legs which are evidence of an adventure through the woods with some friends. The one on my arm when we all went to the cemetery and I ran into Kitty’s cigarette. The one on my wrist when we were racing around on our mopeds and I wrecked my scooter and ate dirt. They all have a story and isn’t that just something.