My left arm laying palm up on my desk.
I glimpse at my wrist by accident, and I remember everything.
I remember every crying fit, every breakdown, every terrible word that each faded line on my wrist brought with.
The nearly in invisible ones from a year ago; the white lines from five months ago; the angry pink lines from one month ago; the scabbard over, deepest I've ever gone, almost life threatening ones from last night.
Seeing them, feeling them, reliving them.
All in the corse of the instant I happen to glimpse at my arm.
As I tuck my arm away I focus on something else, saving the pain for my bedroom in the dead of another night.