i told her that her jokes were
always funny. that they always brightened up
my day, that she was the one who brings a
smile across my face without even
trying.

but, then i told her that the one joke
that i couldn't tolerate was the one
about self-harm. she looked up at me,
and i swear her heartrate soared,
and then said,
"i understand, it won't happen again."
i looked at her, confused.
why was that so easy to say?
i then looked down at my wrist and
gulped a bit louder than i should,
and she got out from behind her desk
and then proceeded to say,
"I did it as well, i cut in highschool."

i stared blankly at her,
not expecting to hear that
she knows the fears i have.
she knows of what its like to
have a blade go across your skin,
she knows.

i hate that she knows.
i hate that she went through that,
that she knows that feeling.
i hate it.

but, at the same time, im glad
she knows, because maybe she can
be the one who helps me from
going on some relapse
frenzy.

i just hope that
maybe she wants to
be the one who
helps me.