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Wednesday, October 30, 2013

never mind the boy who lived, what about the girl who survived?


i remember when she showed me her scars,
she removed her purple finger gloves,
and there were seven, uneven scars, 
her skin still pink and raw from her most recent lapse,
faded white scars underneath the new ones,
we counted them, and i said sorry.
sorry for all the pain she didn't deserve,
sorry for all the times she cut, and i wasn't there,
and the times she felt like she was alone. 

i thought her insomnia was a sign of bravery,
something to brag about, almost
but now i realise, 4 am was fear,
4 am was loneliness,
4 am was the time when you were the most empty.
i asked, "does it hurt?"
she replied, "of course it does. that's the point."
i kept a brave face, telling myself it was for her,
but i thanked god that I was an exceptional liar,
because i'd never tasted fear as tragic as hers.

now i watch as i lose my friends to the same demons,
more informed, but still just as helpless,
and i tell them, with a breaking heart: i'm sorry.
and they tell me: i'm sorry too. 







3 whispers of love:

Erimentha said...

this made me cry. i'm so glad i have you as my friend...i often feel like there needs to be more stories about the girls (and boys) who survive...x

Emilia said...

4 am is the hour where people are at their most honest.
Your friend is brave and you are too - many wouldn't even bother. Stay strong.

helen said...

everything about this post is heart-wrenching because i understand this too, i've been on both sides, and it's always hard to find the words.

you write really beautifully, x

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