I sat there one day, about a month after my fiancée broke things off with me, feeling completely worthless. So I began writing. I came upon the idea that my heart had been ripped out, and was torn to pieces. I spent a month in depression, drinking away my sorrows and overall pining for my lost love. I began my obsession with scarification during this period, and did several by myself, having yet to find and artist to do them for me. My friends were concerned, but I eventually swayed them to my side, and a few have joined me. But I digress. I broke my depression after about a month, and began planning my biggest design yet. About a week later, I met a wonderful girl, and my life changed. I felt like my heart had been put back together, and I was ready for love again. I decided to commemorate the event, using this as a perfect opportunity to pull all my friends and companions in as advisors on this. I contemplated asking one of my protégée's to do this (I am not a professional, but I teach some people what I know so that they stay safe) but decided to do this myself, finding it too important to trust to anyone but me. Days passed, and I was talking to a friend of mine, still unable to think of a good design and telling him about what just happened to me. We spent hours looking for designs, drawing up things we thought were good, but none stood out. We gave up for the night, and sat around trying to figure out something to do. We kept talking about life, and about our girlfriends. He was proud of me for getting over it so quickly, and said, almost nonchalantly "So it's like your hearts was sewn back together, huh?" That little sentence got me thinking, and as I sat playing some games with him, I saw a bear that had been sewn back together, a few patches on it and large, clearly defined stitches across its chest and arms. "My God, that's it!" I exclaimed, and grabbed a pen and drew out a design on my hand. A patchwork heart made of two pieces of different "cloth" with patches and seven stitches. I was ecstatic, and told everyone I met about, except for my girlfriend. She's a good little Christian girl, and although I have nothing against that, I didn't think she would understand. I began to prepare myself for the procedure, and spent a few days meditating and getting my mind set for it. The days flew by, and a week later I sat down and actually got my equipment together. I sat down late at night (when I work best), took a deep breath, and made the first incision. For some reason, I barely felt it. The pain was on a whole different level, and all I could feel was the love traveling through me. I went through it once, cleaned it with alcohol (here is where the pain was) and went over it a second time. The second go around always hurts, but I've found it makes a better scar, especially for me, who doesn't scar very easy. In all, it took me about ten minutes to finish it, and the adrenaline flowing through me kept the pain off long enough for me to get to sleep that night. By the next morning, the pain had caught up with me and my morning shower was almost hellish. I cleaned it again; very gingerly scrubbing it with more alcohol and cursing my nerves into oblivion choosing a loose shirt to wear so that it wouldn't rub on it and send me into another spectacular swear fest. I spent the day with my girlfriend, who eventually noticed my odd behavior of me favoring my right arm. She inquired, and I broke down and told her finally, showing her the red outline on my arm. She took one look at it, and began to laugh! Amazed, she turned around and pulled up her shirt, showing me several clearly defined scars on her back: a shooting star, a tribal design, and a rose. She'd been doing this for years! I told her I didn't think she would understand, and she laughed again, saying that's why she hadn't told me about hers.We laughed about it, and since then, we have been testing out new techniques on each other, teaching anyone who asks and reveling in our newfound culture, art, and community together. My patchwork heart is by far my favorite scar, a loving creation made to commemorate someone very close to me and me actually breaking my depression.My girlfriend loves me telling the story behind it, which I do every time she asks me.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 10 July 2007