She tells me where her scars are from, tells me all about her swollen eye. She says her father drinks and broken glass from a tossed bottle not even meant for her caused those scratches on her finger tips. I put my down my beer, I know she deserves sober attention though my focus is still divided equally between her words and how badly I wish for her to rest her head upon my chest. “My mom left her coke out one night and my sister said she was cleaning it up to throw away” I adjust my body to be more vulnerable “turns out it was heroin and she OD’d” now I was annoyed at how serious this got. “I mean my sister was the only person I ever felt safe with. She just made sure I knew all the s*** we’ve been through doesn’t deserve to ruin us.” When she apologizes for putting all this on me I say honestly “Don’t be sorry, be anything else but.” Her head is now on my chest and her hand and mine clasp. I consciously rub my knuckles gently on her upper arm and now I want to hear more. It’s weird but perfectly sensible that more respect I gain for her, the more tragedies of hers I wish to hear. “Oh my god! Not to change the subject but guess what!” I don’t care. I want her to talk about issues, it’s like subliminally talking really positive of yourself, but that’s not her thought process right now. My reasoning for wishing to hear more of her drama is because she is the most beautiful thing in the world and I still am waiting to see how beautiful she can get.

She tells me about living with her grandparents while she was really young. She says her father was sober for 6 months and bought them a lot of gifts only to sell them for money when he relapsed. “My brother told me he loved me, like he wanted to f*** me. I didn’t blame him actually. And I didn’t worry he was going to do anything like I felt safe. But one night I walked into his room and found him hanging.” When I squeezed her tighter I was really hoping to comfort her, not anything sexual. I hope that is understood. “The note said he was worried he was going to assault me and he was protecting me” A stupid thought comes into my head and I genuinely think her tears I feel on my arms are beneficial for my skin. She sniffles and feels at peace. “Thank you for letting me vent, feel free to talk to me if ever needed” and as I stare aimlessly I think loneliness is having people feeling at peace with you and not feel it yourself at all.