I'll be right back

I look at their arms. I see the scars I notice how big they are, and how my heart feels for them when I see the suffering and pain they went through. I wonder if no one knows but me. My mind races thinking, why would they do this? But my mind thinks more towards what about mine? I wonder if people think the same towards my little scars. I question why I didn't press harder. I wish I could push the blade into my skin again. Prove that I can make my scars just as big. "She's just a teenager." They'll say, "everyone does it." But they don't see the part of me that looks at the reflection in the middle of the night wanting to cut myself, to bleed. I look at their arms, I look at mine. I feel the blade in my pocket. "I'll be right back."