Love Scar

The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them knowing you can't have them.

She sat in front of me with a wide grin leaning up against the tree behind her, the smoke filling the air surrounding her face in it’s fog. The blunt in her hands moving toward her lips whenever a tear would fall out of her eyes. Her beautiful face masked in sadness just to be recovered by a stick filled with drugs. It was only a couple days ago when she found me, begging for my help. She didn’t have to tell me anything, she didn’t even have to speak in order for me to know what she wanted. It had been years since I sat this close to her, only five feet away, years since we both even spoke. I missed her. Every second of the day not a single one would go by without a thought surfacing in my head about her. She was perfect without knowing it, she acted as if she didn’t really matter and surrounded herself around people who treated her like she treated herself. I didn’t understand at all why she did that, even when she was little she would act as if I was better than her. Maybe she never got enough compliments, maybe she was the one who gave, not the one who got, and maybe that made her think she could never compare. Ever so often when I looked at her right now leaning up against that tree, I got a glimpse of the pain she felt but had never showed. 

It was about ten years ago when we were both roaming around the woods and climbing trees like any other normal eight year olds. She had yelled at me to get down off a tree I was climbing since she couldn’t climb that specific one. The first branch was too high and her little legs could not stretch as far as mine could. I just smirked at her continuing up and going the farthest I have ever climbed, just to tease her. She kept screaming at me, telling me I was going to get hurt and how it was unfair for her. Just to prove my point further I kept climbing reaching nearly the top when my fingers had caught onto a limb and a snap was heard. Her hand squeezed onto my shoulder once she helped me sit up and examined the now gash on my arm. Her satisfying grin turned into a worried expression in a matter of seconds staring at me to tell me it was indeed bad. I looked down at the blood now dripping off her fingers and onto the dirt in rushing droplets. The expression on her face told me I should probably be screaming from the pain right now or at least wincing, something that indicated that it hurt. In fact I couldn’t feel the pain, all I could focus on was her, how she tried to stop the bleeding, how she stood so close to me, how she held my arm in comfort. I not only still had the scar on my arm to this day, but the scar that reminds me how that day was the day I fell in love with her. 

Once high school started it had been three years since I last talked to her. Things just seemed to change once people started to notice how lovely she actually was. Everyday I was lonelier than the next and every night a piece of my heart was taken out along with my only happiness. I couldn’t live with myself without her, she was someone I needed. Everyday had seemed the same now, the memories, the thoughts, and the options weighing down on me until I would be once again covering up my thoughts with alcohol. She had seemed happy with her new friends and new captain boyfriend, she had seemed happier with them than she ever was with me. Years had passed like this, we ignore each other and went our separate ways. I found drugs and tattoos and she found parties and sex. It was only a matter of time before I gave up on myself and thats exactly what I was planning on doing. 

About a week ago I had jumped into my car ready to go back to school and ignore everyone, when a hand had stopped the door from shutting. Her brown hair flung into sight and her blues eyes stared down at me. Her expression was just the same when we were eight and I had fallen off that tree, although she tried to hide it with a smile. I had asked her what she wanted and why she was here as she held up two concert tickets. Apparently I was the only one she wanted to go with to go see Fall out boy. We use to listen to them when we were little, but I knew I wasn’t the only option, something was wrong. That day I had realized why I had fallen in love with her again she always was happy even though at this point I knew she was broken. 

I still don’t know the reason why she suddenly left her group of friends to hang out with me or why she was so broken. The only thing I knew was that when I looked at her sitting there in front of me, her hair crazy in the wind and her eyes glistening into mine, that I had still loved her. Throughout all these years I had still thought of her as perfect. The only thing that held me back from kissing her right then and there, seated only five feet away, was that I knew that she did not feel the same way. That’s what hurt the most and that’s what made my scar around my arm some how hurt just like it was suppose to the day I feel in love with her.