"The world is just so fucked up, you know?" He commented.
"Yeah. I know." I replied. I didn't even scold him for his cursing. At this moment it was just me and him. That was how I liked it best.
It was currently 3:00 AM and the two of us were sitting outside, lying on the damp grass with a cigarette between my lips and a thumb between his. Bitting his nails had always been an anxious habit.
My pale complexion didn't tan this summer, and the warm weather didn't compliment my hair. Humid storms were coming and going like the autumn wind and old leaves. I'm glad it's almost over.
As I went in for another drag, his strong hand reached toward the box, only to be swatted away by my frail one. I shot him a look, silently telling him he wasn't allowed to smoke and he only shrugged.
Our friendship was a strange one. I knew his inhumane habits and let him believe I didn't. He knew my peculiar family and didn't say a word on the matter.
My short brown hair just about reached my shoulders at that time, and my newly cut bangs grazed my forehead in an unfamiliar manner. I was aching to push them back, Desperately waiting until the feeling subsided. My drunken friends had decided to cut my hair during a party that took place a few hours before Logan and I met up in his back garden.
Logan said he liked my hair and I didn't reply, only lit another cigarette and looked up at the stars accompanying us on the chilly summer night.
he said: "I hate the world."
I replied: "Me too."
I never tried to understand him, because I knew I wouldn't, no matter how much I wanted. No matter how much I cared, and how much I wanted to help, I knew better than to push him into telling me what was wrong.
I first saw his scars freshman year, we were juniors now, so it'd been a while since I knew about them. Never once did I think about telling him that I cared and that I understood because he wouldn't believe me and I didn't understand. It was so hard to comprehend- why he would do that to himself.
We were so different in so many ways. That's probably why we liked each other so much. Opposites attract, I suppose.
And just because I knew he harmed himself in ways I couldn't even fathom, didn't mean I was going to abandon him or throw away his blades when I went over to his house. Because it's hard to stop once you've started. An old habit is hard to crack -that's one thing I did know.
Since finding my discovery, I was convinced every time he cut himself, an angel got their wings.
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