They disappear after a while.

they leave a mark, of course. But after a while you stop counting. They become you.

You forget other people can see. part of you, hope they do see. but do the ones hidden really count? Are they even there if no one else notices?

you look at them, remembering every story they were formed in. You remember that pain. the loneliness.

You remember sliding your back against the wall sitting on your bathroom floor with your door locked hoping no one hears your cry.

next thing you know, there's another one there. Another one that will be part of you forever. But they get deeper, and careless. You know that it's bad when you see the red ink slip out. They seem to haunt your sleep and you feel the painful sting as you try to hide them.

you wake up the next morning, then you remember, that you failed. you failed last night, you gave in, you gave into the loneliness.