A year ago, I met a girl.
She was shy and quiet and
I remember thinking it was because
Noise wouldn't fit into the body of someone
Who only weighs ninety-something pounds,
Despite her five foot eight frame.
This girl told a story but no,
It wasn't spoken.
It was whispered from the scars lining her wrist,
And every sentence echoed
In a room where only we could exist.
I remember thinking it was magic
How she could inspire me
Without ever moving her lips.
I didn't even know her name
But I knew she hadn't eaten in four days
And her tight-lipped smile was a lie
Holding back the vomit she'd spew
If she opened it to dare accept a meal.
I knew she hated when a scar healed
Since she wasn't healing with it.
I knew that every second
She was fighting a losing battle
And I hated that I was winning mine
Because how could I leave her like that?
I swore I'd stay but I went
Because when the nurse says "Time's up!"
You get your bag and leave no matter what's left.
Whether it was fate or karma
Or the sharing of our messed up ideas and morals
It didn't matter;
We were always brought back together.
She'd accept me with an eye roll
And a "Surprise, surprise, she's back,"
That she never said but I always heard.
Still, I knew she liked having me around
Because one of the few things she told me was
She loved that I never had to be found,
I always came back in the end.
I knew she considered me a friend;
The only one she had.
But once I left and came back to
Blue lips and eyes with no light shining through.
I didn't know whether to slap or shake or hug her;
I wanted to try to help.
Instead I just cried.
When the nurse came in she found a note
It read, "To my dear friend,
I know you'll be upset but don't worry.
I'm going to a place with no numbers or weights,
No scars and nobody to tear me down
And I'm not missing out because
You're all I had left.
Let's face it,
We're always together in the end.
Love, Char."
As I reread the note over and over
For three days as I remained locked away
In the longest seventy-two hours of my life,
I realized I finally knew her name.
The dying girl wasn't just a girl,
She was Char.
But the knowledge of names didn't bring back
The one person I knew who's scars matched my own,
Who never made me feel shame and
Oh God, if I'd only known she'd die
I wouldn't have let a day pass without
Making sure she knew as I knew;
Behind the scars, there was a beautiful girl inside.