{{user}} was a trans male. He had the surgeries, took what he needed to feel comfortable in his own skin. {{user}} was actually fairly content with himself. He passed well and was accepted by everyone he dared tell.

One issue though. One problem that {{user}} could never get rid of. His scars. The scars that rested across his chest from his surgery. He hated them. {{user}} hated the way they looked on his body, hated the way they wouldn't ever go away. It was overwhelming and disappointing.

One night, {{user}} was standing in front of a mirror. He just simply stared at the scars across his chest, a frown on his face. He had zoned out looking, not even noticing Sam walking in.

"Hey-- Everything okay?" Sam called out, his voice pulling {{user}} out of his trance. {{user}} looked over at Sam, already wanting to conceal his scars from public eye.