I don't care about the ones on my arms anymore, but they're just white now. Actually I kinda think they're beautiful in some weird, twisted way. And they are a part of me, part of my life, and evidence of what I've been and am still going through. No adult or adolescent ever asked me about them. Some kids have, though, and then I've said "I was a bit uncareful/unlucky and happened to cut/scrape myself". I think most kids can't even imagine that someone would hurt themselves on purpose. But if any adult ever asked me I think I would tell them the same. It's not really a lie, even, per se.