I read a story, it really touched me. It was about a young teen with a lot of stress. The only way she could be relieved of her pain was to release it through self-mutilation. No one seemed to care about all her pain, all the thoughts that ran through her mind, every day waking up to another morning filled with tears. And yet no one quite new what she was going through. She hide all her pain behind fake smiles, sweaters, and long sleeve shirts. Her only true friends would tell her time and time again to stop abusing herself. But it wasn't that easy. She had grown to attached to her new best friend, the razor blade. And as the sharp mettle pierced her skin, she dragged it down her wrists to a new crimson bracelet would soon appear. With the only thought in her head, will i finally die tonight? She questioned herself this every night as she slit her wrists over and over again. Her friends would question her, why? Why do this, hurt your self just to see the blood run cold? They told her to stop, it would one day kill her. But she never listened, it was to hard. It was like a new drug addiction but very more serious. She never really care about her consequences. She just looked forward to coming home and doing it again and again until she could no longer move from the numbness that had set into her body. Her parents became suspicious when they had seen the blood stains upon the floor and that witch had appeared on her clothing. She was asked to remove her sweatshirt and expose her blooded arms to her mother. And as tears overwhelmed her mothers eyes, a silent "Why are you doing this?", appeared. With no answers she ran in tears. Her mother removed all the knives and sharp utensils from the teens reach. But the stress was to hard to handle. She searched the house for any thing that she could use to cut her skin. Anything would do, so she broke a glass frame. She removed the sharpest piece, and began to cut her self the blood trickled to the floor and soon she lay in a crimson pool of her own blood. She fell asleep that night in her pool of blood not able to move,not knowing if she would awake the next morning. And sure enough she reopened her eyes to see her self still laying in the pool of blood.For this time she was blessed with a miracle. A miracle she did not want, a miracle she wished had been her last breath. But the only thing she could do for now was wrap the cut in cloth and hope it did not show through. She went about her normal day until the minute her arm was bumped. She felt her arm in encased in blood that soon began to seep through her shirt. And now as she lay in the hospital bed with family and friends around her she realized she wasn't alone.She had people that loved her.People that really did care and were really concerned about this problem she had with knives. She realized she was not only hurting herself but also the others around her. Her mother insisted she get psychiatric help, but she didn't need it she had received a message from god, a message in a different sort of package. She had received a gift from god he had given her the strength to discontinue her urge to cut and burn herself, but most of all he had given her people who loved her.
