Seeing Right Through Me

I’m sure i’m not the only one here who puts on a fake smile, laughs, talks, and pretends to be a perfectly happy person. Everyone at school, besides my best friend, believes the act. I started cutting again 2 days ago. The wounds weren’t deep at all. If i hadn’t done as many as i did, they could pass for cat scratches. Since it’s winter, wearing long sleeves all the time isn’t suspicious. I prefer to anyways, though, because i have 4 years worth of scars on my arms (i didn’t used to have to worry because i had quit for almost a year so most people left it alone.)
Today, someone at school, who is i guess like a friend (hard to tell nowadays) noticed me…the real me. She told me that she knew i wasn’t truly happy…she could tell. She told me that she thinks i’m a cutter again. She has never seen a fresh wound on me, and she even said that…but she guessed, because she’s seen the old scars. There was just something that told me i could trust her…so i did. I told her about the real me, the me that is a cutter, the me that attempted suicide almost a year ago. She had tears in her eyes. She herself has never cut, or been suicidal, or dealt with depression. But she is very passionate about people.
It gave me hope, that there are people who care, that even regular, generally happy people are not all blind to the pain the rest of us feel. Those who truly look for it can see. She’s not gonna tell. She understands that it won’t help. But it felt good, for just one person to see my smile, and know that on the inside, i wasn’t happy. I’m not saying i’m gonna stop my happy act. In all honesty, i’ll still probably pretend in front of her. But it was nice, for just that small amount of time, to not have to pretend to be the happiest girl in the world.