Monster exorcised

Wow, new entry so soon. Yes, well, that’s because I just got the news that I have another skin cancer (but the friendly kind). That spot on my nose, the one that wouldn’t heal, the one I had removed last week, will be the cause of yet another scar on my face. As if I don’t have enough already. This is where I am right now:
I’m eight years old again, my own dog has gone mad, leaving hideous scars marking my face. I feel like Frankenstein’s monster. I am amazed when others don’t notice my scars, because that’s all I see. This is what fuels the low self-worth fire, which leads to grade school ostracism, which ignites the suicidal thoughts that plague me until my 20s.
I don’t want this new scar, the one I will be getting in September, to define or confine me the way I let the first ones do. I would like to think I have a better sense of self-respect, or at least where to look for it. So thanks little basel cell carcinoma, little monster, and happy transmigration.

2 thoughts on “Monster exorcised

  1. All I ever see, all I ever saw, is your beauty.
    And I was there when you were a girl. I saw the fresh wounds; I saw them healing; I imagine that, if I looked, I could find the traces of them. But I don’t see them in my mind’s eye or in your photos; they simply aren’t there in any meaningful way for an observer.
    When I say “You are beautiful,” yeah, I am to some extent invoking that beautiful on the inside trope, but I am also making a purely elitist, Greco-Roman/canonically informed aesthetic judgement: damn, girl — you hot!

  2. Now I’ll have to take Elsa’s word for it but I’m sure she’s right. I HAVE seen your eyes, they were pretty stunning.

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