Even if it means somebody else must curl in the corner of their bedroom whispering to themselves Why me? Why this?, there is something comforting in knowing that one is not alone. Of course, even if it is knowing you are not alone, there is still distress to be found in that happiness.
You said, "Hey, I have that, too," and you saw emotion quickly covered by a polite mask. What if you had seen what occured later, held my wrist up to your ear and heard the joy singing in my veins and having found somebody like me? Would you have found comfort knowing that you could have an instant friend who understood an underlying struggle that is omnipresent even though she doesn't even know your name? Would you have found unease in the same thing?
The only things found more than the glee and relief in finding somebody like oneself are perhaps the grief that somebody else has shed the same tears and, even more so, the fear that they may find the jagged border between mask and skin. Sometimes that mask is all one has.
ᴏɴᴄᴇ-ᴜᴘᴏɴ-ᴀ-ᴍɪᴅsᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ-ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ*