--Open hearts and throats alike with reckless abandon. Unaplogetically.--

Vol I.
She told me she enjoyed shaving her legs because that was as close as she could put a razor to her skin without drawing blood. Her arms were covered in thin cuts, her legs in pale burns that she never attempted to hide. She wore almost exclusively low cut tank-tops and miniskirts so short they probably could have qualified as belts.
She propped her legs up on mine one day. I looked down at the patches of discoloration then quickly looked away
“You eyeing my scars?”
After a moment of silence
“It’s cool, I think they look neat.”
She was afraid of walking places by herself, she told me that when she was little she let go of her father at a fair and had never been so afraid in her life. I walked with her everywhere, after a bad breakup we were sitting behind the school and, trying to bridge the silence I asked about her family.
“My mom is in prison and my sister killed herself”
I was silent again
“It’s cool, it’s not a huge deal.”
She told me her sister OD’d so that’s why she won’t touch anything stronger than weed. Not including alcohol it seems, as she showed up to school one day 50% drunk 50% hungover from the night before. I yelled at her about it, telling her that our math test was today and she waved me off. She has an F in that class, in fact she has F’s in all her classes.
She readily acknowledges the fact that her life is a mess and seems to not care.  Instead, she spends all her time dealing with the problems of others. She refuses to turn her phone off in case a friend of hers is in trouble. She once ditched all her classes to nurse a boy she hardly knew back to health after a rough breakup.
It’s things like this that confuse me. Her life is crazier than anyone I’ve ever met, but instead of trying to improve her life, she spends all her energy on making the world an easier place for others to be in.