"You don't have to do this..."
These words crept across the small Starbucks table to me. I didn't recognize the voice; as I didn't arrive with any company...yet there she was. A beautiful young woman in a bright red coat with bouncing blonde curls. She just sat there...looking at me...then she grabbed my bandaged wrist.
"You don't have to do this."
She repeated. A tear welling in her green eye. But...she didn't even know me? Why did this stranger give a shit about my mutilation? She had no reason to care. She was just a pedestrian walking by me and my coffee. Was it the empty look in my eyes? Or my slumped shoulders? Or the thick white bandage that covered most of my wrist...if only she knew about the bandages that scattered my legs as well...
"Yes I do."
I finally responded after what felt like forever. Tears must be contagious.
"No. I understand."
How could she understand? She was thin, beautiful, happy, and wore a beautiful wedding band. Everything was going great for her. She had no reason to be depressed. Not like me.
"No you don't. You don't know me."
"But I know what that's like."
She confessed, slowly sliding up her coat sleeve to reveal thick white scares.