Do It Alone

I don't want to lie to you, but I have to because it's the only way that we can be OK. So maybe I'm not OK, but that doesn't really matter. Has anyone ever really cared? Even if they have, they shouldn't have. I don't need to be cared about when there are so many people in the world whose suffering is so abundant that I can hardly begin to imagine the depths of it. That's what you think, right? Every time I begin to confide in you, you back away from my emotional attachment and tell me tales of the greatest hardships. I'm not physically bruised and my past isn't that dark. Grandma died and then Dad's heart broke, so I got a boyfriend because I needed a "man" in my life that wasn't completely blinded by sorrow. But then it turned out that I wasn't ready to move as quickly as this relationship required, so then the self harm started. It began as a tool of manipulation, but then it became real to me. I began to hide it. When I was at my weakest, the pain made me forget. The bleeding was my way of crying when crying felt foolish. Crying still feels foolish sometimes. I eventually let you find out.. sort of. When I was called into the guidance counselor's office that day with no way to hide the affliction, I knew that it was going to happen. Still, it felt like a blow to the head when she put you on the phone. I don't even remember what happened after that, but the road was rocky and scary. I didn't like you, or anything really, expect for instant satisfaction, self-afflicted wounds and lust. I liked to showcase the curves that I didn't care about. I liked to be dramatic and needy and "too much." Life got better eventually. I went to see Susan and I went to church and then God spoke to me. I gave my life to him, my problems to him, my negativity to him, and I was SO HAPPY. But then the happiness became routine. Complacency set in, and I didn't remember how to feel. So I grabbed hold of the world, I grabbed hold of a boy, and I came tumbling down. I was on my couch crying with the scissors, every single day. Everything was meaningless because I stepped off of the path to the high places and began to venture back to the valley of humiliation. Eventually, I gave up the scissors and found a new way to take up time. I could make it as complicated or as simple as I wanted to, and it seemed to make people like me. It was perfect, it was my best friend. And then 35 pounds later, I was hungry and out of control. I humbled myself before God the summer before my sophomore year and things were beginning to look bright again. I felt so purified and new and open. But then I let myself trip back into the world with another guy, a guy that lied to steal my time, and I forgot about God. All I knew was a lie. Love was a lie because "love" called me stupid, cursed at me, spat on me, and made my sorrows run like rain through my eyes. But it was "love" and "love" means sacrifice, so I sacrificed, but I gave up the wrong thing. I gave up on God, my sustainer, my healer. And my old best friend came back in an even worse form that continues to haunt me. But I know that only God can save me. You know that only God can save me. Yet you throw me into a dry place where thousands of people drink mirages. Please, let me find my own way..