Thirteen year old girl, beautiful and loving. She walks with her head held high trying to hide the hurt within. Her arm is lined with cuts, both old and new. Each line, too many to count, displays one more hurt, one more night of hopelessness.
Each cut made in an effort to release pain. Much to her disappointment, the pain still resides deep within her. She cuts again. The pain is still there. She can’t rid herself of it. She’s alone, hurt, confused.
She needs help, not from a blade, but from someone who can help her from within. She seeks that help and she find it in boys, for a moment. They hurt her. She cuts again. She continues to look and finds help once more, in a friend. A friend that deceives her. She cuts again.
There is no one. She is alone. She stops looking.
Someone finds her. They see her pain, her hurt, and they help her. She’s leery of their intentions. What do they want from her? Will they hurt her too? They don’t. They tuck her under their wing, give her help and guidance. She feels loved, maybe for the first time in her thirteen years of life.
With every new day, the cuts begin to fade. No longer are new ones being etched into her skin. Instead, she’s learning to release her pain through words to those who care, those she can trust.
She’s no longer alone.
Finally there is a glimmer of hope before her, small perhaps, but not too small to grab onto. She holds onto that hope for dear life, and she lives another day.
Thirteen year old girl, erasing her hurt one faded line at a time.
Each day is a new day. With every heartbeat, there are new possibilities.