Scars is the prompt.

I’d like to be flawless. That sentence was the first thing that came to mind for this post. Do I really mean that? Surely being flawless is not all it’s cracked up to be. It must be boring. You’d go through life making no mistakes. You’d have no happy accidents.

I’m trying to think of a time when I made a mistake and things ended up turning out better than they would have had I not made the gaff. I’m not coming up with anything, but I’m sure it’s happened.

Drawing of hand with patterns.

I’ve got physical  scars. My arms are scarred with scratches from my playful dogs. My abdomen is scarred at the place they opened me up to remove my uterus. Is there such a thing as an emotional scar? I could find some flaw in my personality, or a bad habit and call it a scar-a blemish on my psyche.

The bottom line here is this: you get a scar because something that was cut healed. That means you’re alive! So go and get on with it.

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