I sat, peering into the eyes of the person that meant the most to me. Just sat, staring into the wandering abyss of her blue-green eyes. It was as if I was staring into a vast oblivion filled with wisdom and love. It was something I was not used to, having someone care for me. It was strange, and that’s part of what made it so beautiful. Speaking in a soft whisper she broke the silence. “Why is it you always hide your hands and arms?” her eyes wandered from my gaze then, drifting ever so slightly down to wear my arms lay hidden beneath the solid shield of the table. The truth is, my arms held the story of my past, drawn in the ridged pink lines, etched into my heart and arms by the blade of peoples cruelty, and my regrets. It was something I hid at all cost, then again I hid everything from everybody. To scared that I would get hurt more than I already had. And this wonderful, beautiful creature was asking me to reveal myself to her. My all, my everything. Her gaze returned to meet my eyes, holding a look of pure hearted love and concern. She spoke again, even softer this time. “Theres nothing you can say, or do that will make me care for you less. Nothing will ever change this, I made my choice, and that choice is to be yours.” she began to cry, her tears like diamond beads rolling across her silky white skin. Something in her eyes made me believe what she was saying, believe that I could rely on her to be my rock. “My arms hold the story of my past, my mistakes and everyone else’s mistakes.” I spoke in a broken voice. Gently she reached across the table, her hand closing tightly on the sleeve of my shirt, she drew my arms up and lay them gently on the table. As she began to raise the sleeves I instinctively began to recoil, attempting to hide. “Its ok, I will be gentle.” She spoke. She drew back my sleeves, caressing my palm gently as she did so. It was then that her eyes left mine, and turned to the canvas that was truly my own, my masterpiece my disasterpiece. I looked down to see the raod map of my life, carved into the soft flesh of my arms. “Each one of these holds a memory, together they make me. Maybe one day you’ll learn the secrets they have to tell.” I said gently. Her eyes met mine again, holding my line of sight she said, “There’s no need for them to tell me, I already know. Even if I didn’t already know, they wouldn’t have to speak, I can see all I need in your eyes, in your heart.” Reaching back across the table she slowly began tracing the lines of my past up my arm, and onto my chest growing ever closer to my heart. Finally she reached the center of my chest, placing her palm over where my heart should be, she leaned in and whispered to me, “Your arms may be scared, your heart hurt, but you are not broken. You are mine to love. And if you believe your heart cant support you, then take mine, because it belongs to you.”

It was then everything melted away in a sea of dizziness, and a flash of light. I was sitting with my back against the wall of my bathroom. I looked to my canvas, there was fresh streams of red dripping down from the wilted lines of the puckered scars of my arms. Strangely artistic, the red tears of my life running out of my body draining into the sewer of the world that caused all of this.