to know him, not about him.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the sharp, searing pain in my wrist. Tears streamed down my cheeks. My heart was shattering into a thousand pieces. Slowly, I opened my eyes to see that I had cut deep enough.

Frustration, heartbreak, anger, guilt, and regret-all of them hit me at once. It wasn't enough. No matter how deep the cut, the pain inside wouldn't go away. The voices in my head wouldn't be silenced.

I wanted to vanish, to disappear from this earth, to never have existed. I wanted the world to forget me, to forget the hurt I carried inside. And I was angry-angry with God. How could He let this happen? How could He allow this kind of pain to swallow me whole?

I held my wrist up.

"Do you see this? The wounds you've caused me? You don't like it when people harm the body you created, do you? The marks on my skin-do you really think they're the worst of it? The cuts on my skin mean nothing compared to the wounds you've left on my heart."

I cried my heart out.