I am thrilled to introduce the newest feature on The Butterfly Girlz Blog, "Girl with SCARS," which is a series of journal entries that will amaze you. These journal entries are REAL, truly from a young girls journal. 'Girl with SCARS' writes these journal entries as a way of healing. Some are painful, some are sad and all will leave you wanting more.
Please give a Butterfly Girlz welcome to our anonymous teen writer who prefers, 'Girl with SCARS,' to her own name.
Journal Entry #1
Dear Journal,
I was making cookies with my grandma today, and I was scraping the cookies off the baking sheet and placing them on paper towels on the counter... As my grandma walked off towards the dining room to read more of her book, she stated over her shoulder, "just don't burn yourself!" I wanted to reply with "I usually try not to burn myself grandma." but before I opened my mouth, my mind went back to the first time I hurt myself, myself... I had burned myself..
Why? I look down onto the innocent hair tool in my hand. Why? I try to control the shaking inside as I slip my wrist in-between the straighteners bars. Why? I wait to feel the heat, the heat that promises to relieve my pain. Why? I close my eyes tight and brace myself. Why? My skin tingles under the warmth.
Then it's over. I stare at the red mark on my wrist. Did I really just allow that to happen? Did I really just do that? As I stare at the red fading back to my normal skin tone, I breathe heavily.
What have I done?
I was making cookies with my grandma today, and I was scraping the cookies off the baking sheet and placing them on paper towels on the counter... As my grandma walked off towards the dining room to read more of her book, she stated over her shoulder, "just don't burn yourself!" I wanted to reply with "I usually try not to burn myself grandma." but before I opened my mouth, my mind went back to the first time I hurt myself, myself... I had burned myself..
Why? I look down onto the innocent hair tool in my hand. Why? I try to control the shaking inside as I slip my wrist in-between the straighteners bars. Why? I wait to feel the heat, the heat that promises to relieve my pain. Why? I close my eyes tight and brace myself. Why? My skin tingles under the warmth.
Then it's over. I stare at the red mark on my wrist. Did I really just allow that to happen? Did I really just do that? As I stare at the red fading back to my normal skin tone, I breathe heavily.
What have I done?
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