Excerpt From A Book I'll Never Write

“Show me your scars,” he said.

“But...why?” she asked quizzically.

“I want to see how many times you needed me and I wasn’t there,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek.

I pulled up the sleeve of my shirt. My arm was wrapped with some medical wrap that was now stained crimson from the night before. He took the piece of tape off that was managing to hold the wrap together. He unfolded the tape until my arm was bare. I could hear his breathing change, and I could see his chest rise and fall more rapidly than ever before. I looked up at him to see what his reaction would be. He stared at my arm; some fresh cuts were there and some old. It seemed like he stared for an eternity. When he finally looked up, his eyes broke apart of me. I could see and feel the look of disappointment in his demeanor. Whether he was disappointed in himself or me, I could not tell.

“Why didn’t you call me…” he asked me.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” I replied staring at the ground on the verge of tears.

“Look at me.” he demanded in a tone I’ve never heard him use before. I took my attention off of the ground to look at him in his eyes. His green eyes that were usually so full of life and energy, were now filled to the brim with unshed tears. I felt so guilty...so guilty for dragging him into my messed up life. So guilty for all the wrongs I’ve done in my life.

“You are so beautiful. Why can’t you see that? Why do you do this to yourself? Why can’t you realize how important you are to me? How important you are in my life. You have never, not for one second, bothered me and I don’t think you ever will. You are perfect, I just wish you could understand that..” he told me. “You know...when you first opened up to me about hurting yourself, I tried to think of a valid reason of why you do what you do. I couldn’t come up with a single reason. And then one night I did. You would rather make yourself feel physical pain instead of emotional pain.”

He took the words right out of my mouth. The tears from his eyes now were falling in a steady stream down his freckled cheeks. I wanted to help him. I wanted him to not feel guilty like I do. But how can I help someone else, when I can’t even help myself?

“I want you to promise me one thing. Whenever you feel like doing this again, you call me. And don’t ever tell me that “it doesn’t matter”. Because if it “didn’t matter”, you wouldn’t be here with scars all over your body. If it “didn’t matter” you wouldn’t be crying yourself to sleep every fucking night. It does matter. It matters a hell of a lot to me. Never think that you are insignificant or that your problems don’t matter. You matter.” After he told me all those things, with both of our eyes red from tears, he pulled me into the tightest hug I’ve ever been in. In that moment, I never wanted him to let me go. He made me feel safe. Being in his arms made me feel like I was home. He was my home.