”I looked at the two pieces of fabric,
A long sleeve and a short sleeve,
I knew how my day would go if i choose the short sleeve,
Yet I still choose it.
And there I was, cutting small pieces of plaster,
Measuring my scars,
Making sure I covered enough but not too much.
I should have cut more pieces, taken more,
So that I could cover the scars,
If the plaster fell off.
But I didn’t,
Not this morning,
Today would be different and I knew it.
And there we were, walking,
The sun shining as bright as ever,
As bright as it shines in Stockholms early spring,
Slowly but surely, bit by bit, piece by piece,
Plaster started falling off.
No matter how much i pressed on it,
Begged it to stay,
It kept falling off.
There was no use,
Pressing harder, trying to hide it, fake it, pretend,
Nothing helped.
No matter how much I tried to cover it up,
It always peeled off,
Always revealed the scars on the inside,
Even if I wanted to run away, to hide.
My skin started to itch,
The plaster was annoying,
Then and there, on that walk on the streets of
Stockholms early spring I ripped it off.
I held on to the two pieces of plaster,
Guarding them with my life,
Not yet ready to throw them away, move on.
I put them in my pockets,
Until I stumbled upon a trashcan,
I looked around,
No one was looking,
I took them out of my pocket,
threw them away,
The itching stopped,
But I was the most vulnerable,
They could see right through me,
See every mark carved on my skin,
Evidence of my suffering,
Proof of my existence.
I was tired,
Exhausted of hiding,
Hiding my scars,
Hiding what lies underneath,
When I removed my plaster,
I could feel everyone’s judgemental glares,
But,
The itching stopped,
All the marks made me who I am,
I don’t want to hide,
I want to be free.”
Författare: Elana A – 1/6/2026