Today I’ve got a day off from Uni, and I’m very excited about that. I spend a lot of time at university, getting my body covered in ink from leaking pens and markers, which means that I often look like a children’s coloring book.
So today I had a long bath, to properly get clean and I noticed all the scars on my body.
I have collected quite a few scars over the years, all from ridiculous things,
Reaching for a donut, making soup, bitten by Rocky my first ever love (an amazing Pony), almost fell down a river, and attacked by a cat.
All mad but I enjoy them in their tails, because they are mine. They tell my story and they make me identifiable as Charlie. No one has these scars in these places attached to those stories. They are not blemishes they are finishing touches.