Pain

So I have been cleaning and going through my stuff. I am trying to organize but actually just like playing with my treasures and trinkets. The other night I went out and thought it would be fun to wear some of my 80’s pins that I recently came across. I was quite pleased with the arrangement of Siouxsie and the Banshees, Aztec Camera and Human League on my sweater (yes sweater - yeah right, I know tell me about it).

Well I struck up a conversation with a guy that was quite taken with my Siouxsie button. It really is like an alternative universe out here. After a shockingly fun discussion on 80’s music we talked about politics, cultural differences, and literature. I can definitely understand the cliché “the Comfort of Strangers”. It is so easy to talk with a stranger since there is nothing else but conversation.

He was wearing a long sleeve button up oxford with his sleeves rolled up and cuffed at about his elbows. I noticed marks on his arm. The club was dim (I was actually surprised he could make out my buttons) so I could not clearly see the marks and did not know if he just had something on him. I asked about them. He told me he had been a cutter. Needless to say I was instantly intrigued and when that happens we all know me – here come the questions.

He was not boastful or proud of the marks but he was straightforward and honest. I think even more so because it did not freak me out or make me think any negative opinions of him. I know my curiosity is sometimes too much but it is always genuine. We talked about cutting and he really let me in on a lot of pain he has experienced in his life. I have never cut myself but could empathize. I can understand the pain in his head and heart were too much and cutting his arm moved that pain temporarily to another area that was more manageable. We all employ that technique in some manner.

I way crossed the boundary of strangers and asked him if I could touch them. He very willingly agreed. Again the club is dim and so it was not until I felt them that I really got the complete idea of these marks that ran up and down the length of the inside of his forearm. It hurt me that this stranger hurt himself because of the pain he felt. I could only imagine the crushing depths he was at then. I told him that I was sorry for the pain he experienced that caused those marks. Sounds hollow in writing but he heard the sincerity in my voice. He smiled, thanked me and told me he appreciated my words more than he could express.