Let’s play a fun game called “we’re just friends but I’d fuck you if you asked”
The Story So Far- Face Value
I stood there as vulnerable as ever, but I had forgotten. It slipped my mind that they were there. That I had hundreds of scars on my body. Sometimes you forget. You forget your past. You forget what you have done. You forget what scars and what freckles are where.
It all came back to me as soon as he said it. He saw them. A scattered fucking mess all over my thighs.
“Your legs are hectic”.
He reminded me that I used to try and hide them. I wanted to cover them up. I never wanted someone to see that side of me unless we were close. I fucked up. I stood there, in plain sight, hundreds of scars staring back at him.
Anxious. Ashamed. Disappointed. I’ve done it now. I fucked up. I was supposed to hide that part of me, not put it out there in plain sight. For someone to see where my mind has been. I’ve been broken. I’ve tried to destroy myself. Someone saw my vulnerability in plain fucking sight. How can I come back from that?
“It’s okay. My wrists are the same”.
And he shows me, and I see myself on his forearm. Now his scars are staring back at me. How are you supposed to feel when you know someone has been through the same as you? When you know their vulnerabilities are yours? Their past is yours.
We lie there. Our arms next to one another. Staring down. It’s an uncomfortable, but an understanding silence. Mine and someone else’s vulnerabilities, and our past, and our emotions staring back at us now. Where do you go from here?
i open my bedroom window when you’re not here
and it reminds me of you
and i can hear the crickets and the wind as i lie here alone
but nothing can replace the warmth of your body
and the touch of your skin
because nothing is the same without you here
i keep day dreaming about cutting
i keep thinking about it while i’m away and while i’m asleep
just to slice my skin open once or twice more
before i wake up the next morning wanting it again