We were comparing memories. Not really playing "whose life sucks more" ... we were just sharing. We haven't known each other that long, and the reason we know each other at all is because I am dating his ex-girlfriend, who he's still in love with.

Oh yeah, and he's crashing at my house for a month.

Anyway, we were having a rare moment of honesty, devoid of any sarcasm or stupid stories. He showed me the scars on his arms, courtesy of his bastard father's cigarette. I showed him the scars on my legs, courtesy of my exacto knife.

Our memories somehow cleared the air. Instead of doing what I expected - creating a feeling of suffocation and pain - we both breathed a little easier after that half an hour. We knew that the other, though still very definately the other and still dealing with different experiences, understood.

We didn't feel so alone.

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