A Thank You

I’m not expecting many people to read all this. I’m not. And I’m not trying to get attention. I’m not trying to say my beliefs are right. I’m just telling a story. My story.

When I was young,

Prayers were said before dinner,

Recited before sleep.

Church was attended on the “important days.”

God and Jesus talked about sporadically.

I grew up praying only when things were bad.

The older I got, the more I thought about God.

God-in-Heaven.

Heaven, so be exact.

I wanted to be there.

Months passed.

My head became hell.

I desired death for the absence of pain,

Heaven for the bountiful peace.

I’m not quite sure what was happening.

Arms and thighs were cut.

Pills upon pills were swallowed.

Less and less food was eaten.

Solid nights of sleep weren’t common.

Heck, sleep at all wasn’t common.

But no one knew.

There was no one to know.

No friends to care,

No family I’d open up to.

I was chaos in walking form,

And nobody had a freaking clue.

But at some point, I looked in the mirror.

I didn’t see walking chaos anymore.

Well, not as much anymore.

But that was good, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it good that part of me just sort of disappeared?

I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.

My second year of high school began.

I was in the midst of a rocky road with a friend.

That was weighing me down more than you could believe.

My elective for the semester was photography.

There was a girl in my class.

The only other girl who didn’t seem to have a best friend in that class.

We ended up sharing a box of paper to develop photos on.

Looking back, I think that was a miracle.

She saved me.

I didn’t know she would, then.

She didn’t know, either.

We started talking.

I asked her about the semicolon drawn on her inner wrist.

She told me:

The author could’ve ended the sentence, but he chose not to.

You could end your life, but you can choose not to.

We started talking, more and more.

I worried I was annoying her.

I worried I was being too clingy.

But she was a girl I wanted to know.

Spring came around.

The feeling of dark came back.

My arms didn’t go a week without being cut.

Thoughts of negativity swirled around my head.

What’s the point of all this?

What am I doing?

Am I even worth anything?

I took pills one night.

More pills than ever before.

Maybe enough to end me.

I wrote out my note.

Put it in my closet,

Somewhere my mom or sister would surely see it.

I cried myself to sleep that night,

Tears streaming down my cheeks.

My hand clamped over my mouth,

Hoping no one would hear my sobs.

I started to pray.

I prayed to God,

Don’t let this kill me.

Don’t let me die.

I don’t want to die...

But I don’t want to live, either.

Until now, I never told anyone about that night.

Not what really happened.

I’ve said, some pills were taken, I was fine.

You know now, that’s not true.

Easter came around,

End of March.

My arm was a mess.

I have scars, bad ones.

I was broken and realized I had to do something.

Something to make this all better.

That girl from photography class,

My now best friend,

She gave to strength to talk to people about what was going on.

I emailed my old therapist,

I told my aunt,

My aunt told my mom.

I got help

In more ways than one.

My mom said she was there for me,

She and my dad.

My aunt was there for me.

I got a new therapist.

My best friend gave me the strength to start saving myself.

Then I went to church with her and her family.

A different kind of church,

One with loud, live music,

A pre-recorded sermon.

It was unlike any other kind of church I’ve been to,

And I loved it.

My family started going there.

I started thinking about God more.

And not about God-in-Heaven,

Not about Heaven.

God-and-Jesus.

How much Jesus loved me.

How Jesus had died on the cross for me.

Because He loved me.

I thought about how God had created me.

How everytime I cut,

I was practically spitting God in the face,

And telling Him He was wrong.

And God is never wrong.

I started praying more.

And not only when things were bad.

But to thank Him when things were good.

It’s July now.

It’s been a year and a half,

Since the dark first came.

I’m better now.

So, so much better.

I’m still improving, yes.

But I have so much help now.

It’s all thanks to her, my best friend.

She ended up knowing everything about me.

She could tell by my tone of voice,

When the dark was back.

She, for a while, was the only one that kept me tethered to life.

The days I didn’t want to get out of bed,

I’d say to myself, she’ll be asking where you are.

I got out of bed on those days.

Whether she knows it or not,

And I don’t think she knows,

She saved me.

I owe her my life.

I’m so grateful to have her as my friend.

Thank you, Sav. I love you.