I sat there, comforting her with bags under my eyes.
I gave them my last bandaids while my legs bled through the squares of tissue paper.
I held him up while my legs gave out from under me.
I hugged her tightly, wishing for her own pain to go away instead of mine.
I listened to their story while silently asking someone to help me find my own.
I told him he was plenty man enough while wondering if I'd ever be like him.
It's not that I wonder if these people suffer less than me. It's different from that.
More so of if I would ever be there for me
