I got injured. Bad, really bad. A long time ago I had this nasty open wound, bleeding all over the place. With time it closed and became black and purple. Then that too started to change. All you could see now was the hideous scar, still kinda fresh. As the years went by it faded away. Slowly, very slowly. (Too slowly). It got more subtle and... pinkish. But point is that it's still there. With me. Always. It breathes when I breathe. Always. And that's the thing about scars; they never really leave. So I need surgery. I need to remove marks that I simply cannot bear to have anymore. Cause this time I don't want to adjust. I don't want to build up from here, hoping that eventually it will all fade away and I'll be cured. Not when I feel it's hogging me.