You see it but it’s not yours to see.
Fly wire eyes, without missing a beat or taking a breath, asked me if I was once a cutter.
I, without missing a beat or taking a breath, laughed and said yes.
That’s all I said and for her that is all I needed to say.
No explanations were needed or called for. No time lines were offered and none were asked. Just a laugh and a nod seemed enough for fly wire eyes. It was enough that it was once a part of me, a pain that had simply leaked rivers across my arms. She didn’t dwell on it, question it further, she simply continued doing what she was before.
The strangest thing is I doubt she will ever look upon it again as she seems to simply move within one non judgmental second to another.
I had spent over a year dreading the moment that someone would ask about my scars that when the moment finally arrived, and then went unnoticed, I must admit that it left me a little hollower than before.
Don’t misunderstand, I don’t want questions, I don’t want to find answers, I don’t want to feel that I need to offer reasons about something seemingly unreasonable. I don’t want my sanity questioned as I’m all too aware that I still and may always walk that unsteady tight robe that draws the line between well and unwell. I don’t want you to ask.
Why? How? When? Did it hurt?
Who cares? Do you really want to know?
How about asking if I miss it? If I still crave it? Fantasise about it? Ache for it? Imagine it just to calm down, to freeze a moment in time so I can catch up, cope, handle it and move onto the next moment that’s waiting for me.
People only ask what they do not understand.
People only answer what others will understand.
Even if you had the balls to ask these questions, these answers would not be for you.
Yes I have scars, thick, shiny, raised scars. You see it but it is not yours to see. With or without prejudice.
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