Stories In Scars
More In Common Than You Thought
“I can’t believe someone else... wrote out... their suicide... in a song. I thought I would be the only one, well, crazy enough to do that.” I tell him.
“I was in a really bad place. It was about when I was seventeen. My dad was an alcoholic. My girlfriend broke up with me. I couldn’t stay at home, so I was at Spencer’s most of the time. It got to the point where I was cutting myself daily.” He lifts up his sleeve. All down his forearm are beige scars.
I lift up my sleeve. He sees my scars.
We both look each other in the eyes at the same time. I feel arms wrap around my waist. My breathing quickens. I put one arm around his neck and one on his cheek. In the middle of his living room, our lips meet. Softly, gentle. They part, and our tounges glance. When the kiss finally ends, our eyes meet again.
“Wow. You are one hell of a kisser, Grey,” Ryan tells me.
“Right back at you,” I reply. “Oh, wow, it’s getting late. Or early. It’s almost three. I have to get up bright and early and go job hunting.”
We exchange numbers, and decide that him, Spencer, me, and his friend Brendon are going out to dinner tomorrow.
As I lie in bed at home, I can’t believe this night I had. Shit! What the hell am I going to wear tomorrow night?”
“I was in a really bad place. It was about when I was seventeen. My dad was an alcoholic. My girlfriend broke up with me. I couldn’t stay at home, so I was at Spencer’s most of the time. It got to the point where I was cutting myself daily.” He lifts up his sleeve. All down his forearm are beige scars.
I lift up my sleeve. He sees my scars.
We both look each other in the eyes at the same time. I feel arms wrap around my waist. My breathing quickens. I put one arm around his neck and one on his cheek. In the middle of his living room, our lips meet. Softly, gentle. They part, and our tounges glance. When the kiss finally ends, our eyes meet again.
“Wow. You are one hell of a kisser, Grey,” Ryan tells me.
“Right back at you,” I reply. “Oh, wow, it’s getting late. Or early. It’s almost three. I have to get up bright and early and go job hunting.”
We exchange numbers, and decide that him, Spencer, me, and his friend Brendon are going out to dinner tomorrow.
As I lie in bed at home, I can’t believe this night I had. Shit! What the hell am I going to wear tomorrow night?”