Being brave about it

-But you are being brave about it thought!- she looks at me kindly , not understanding

And I look at her, her eyes sparkle at me , those eyes that used to be filled with sadness and worry for me

-Yes I sure am, I mean I must be brave about it . I mean what else is there to do, we cant just whine and wane for all of eternity. I just refuse to keep imagining my wounds split open and bleeding still.

Its been months now, since she saved my life, she gave me hope when I was in desperate need of it. She held my hand , and I plan on holding the hand of someone like me because of her.

I did not need to ask her, she knew instantly. She knew for weeks I had been in pain. And as her gaze lingered on my wrists, I knew she knew.

-The cats right? – she asked. I looked at her, and I knew she saw my pain. For the first time I felt that there was an adult who saw me. After that It took us weeks or even months to get me to trust her.

And in those months there was one sentence that probably got me to trust her, that she kept repeating to me, until I believed her. It went like –" There is enough people hurting you, please don't be one of them."

She was the one to introduce me to the hotline. She cared if I made it to the next days lesson. For the first time I had to think twice if it really was for the better. Scaring my skin, swallowing whole bottle of xanaxes.

And as the weather slowly turns into September, I cant help but imagine how many fights needed to be fought this year. Becouse the world might not be a kind place , but you can always choose to be kind.