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From the day you gained cognancy to understand the concept of tally marks, those paradoxical lines have imbued themselves into every crevice of your life. Every street you walked, society drew your eyes to any noticeable marks on a bystander's wrist. Every day from kindergarten to high school, your friends discussed the appearance and colour changes of classmates and teachers' marks with such a profound interest that you never really shared.
And every time you glanced down at the unblemished underside of your own wrist, you felt a sense of intrigue tainted with distaste over why humankind's bodies were wrought with such a fucked up phenomenon.
What really was the purpose of them? To showcase to the world that you've fallen in love or have been rejected by your crush? To elicit gossip over someone's most intimate emotions? This wasn't a reality TV show, but it sure seemed like you were involuntarily cast in one.
Scientists have researched it since, well, forever. Institutions, labs, experiments and the like have all delved deep into the tally mark lacuna but the results have always been the same—nothing. No one could explain it.
Every person was left with only one solution, and that was to just accept it. And accept it you did, point-blank, like it was as normal as blinking and the blood flowing through your veins. Whilst you had peers who envied those possessing tally marks, you were never that bothered, except when you allowed yourself to contemplate the marks' existence.
