rite of passage, pt 2

It's teardrop-shaped, just like the tears I wanted to cry when I heard my skin sizzle & my previously perfect tan seared to charcoal & I was forevermore scarred for life (is that redundant? I just wanted to make my dramatic point). It's scabbed over now, & coming off in crispy flakes of brown, transparent goodness. I am raw & pink underneath. Oh so sexaayyyyy.

Some people say scars are cool, badass, a good story, & they bring more depth to an otherwise flawless existence. Now I'll say that too.