In spanish class yesterday
I was sitting next to a girl who was always smiling and
helping others whenever I saw her. When she was writing I
couldn't help but notice how her shirt slid up a bit.
The sight of so many scars made me want to cry
and give her a hug. It was obvious no one knew. But
I wasn't about to tell her secret, so I got her
attention, pulled down my own sleeve to let her know, and
then showed her the semicolon on my wrist. She showed me her
other wrist, and she also had a semicolon. In that moment, we
could have cared less about the class. All that
mattered was that we knew we weren't alone in this
battle.
