Rock Bottom

by Starr
(Connecticut)

Yeah, I reached what most people would call rock bottom. I wouldn't talk to anybody. I wouldn't even answer questions in class. I didn't think anyone would listen. My mom was too busy to even care, I told myself, over and over. I was running from reality by writing and reading and shutting myself out from the world.

My name is Starr, and this is my story.

Alright, so I accidentally left my notebook full of poems and stories by the computer. I thought it would be fine; who would want to look inside a pink notebook anyway?

It was one of my big mistakes.

My mom found it. Apparently she felt, as her 'duty' as a parent, to read some of the stories, the entries, the poems. Those items had been written for my eyes alone, only to be shared with the world when I saw fit.

So she found a phrase she didn't like very much, and sent me this huge email about how I could talk to her and she felt this way when she was young too and all. I didn't officially know if I believed her. I was mad that she got all explosive because I had let my feelings out onto a piece of paper.

That was one thing I learned: most adults aren't very good listeners.

So, I went into my room to chill, as always. I started listening to music to match my mood: heavy stuff, a loud beat. I was mad, and wallowing in self-pity. All of my stories had pain in them. I was tired of thinking of pain; and as silly or maybe even scary as it sounds, I wanted some real pain. I had seen a music video where this girl had cut herself. I found some scissors as decided I'd be a rebel for once. So I took the scissors and slammed them on top of my left palm. It only hurt afterward.

Problem: I had no band-aid, no gauze. I had to go upstairs, through the kitchen. My mom was in the kitchen. I told her I was cutting something. I told her I cut myself with the scissors, but I didn't tell her it was personal. She thought it was an accident. Which was fine with me; it wasn't like I wanted to go public with this news just yet. To bring it one step further, I took some blood from my hand and made my fingerprints with it in my journal.

You could say I was a little messed up then.
I told my mom a few days later. I couldn't not tell her; I'd go mad. But I knew I couldn't live like this, like the Goths who were made fun of at our school. I didn't dress in black.

I actually told my cousin before my mom. She helped me like I couldn't believe. There was someone who would listen, but even she was not quite good enough.

Then I found God.

( Do not think me crazy. This is real stuff). He listened. He cared for me, He healed my broken and torn heart. He forgave my stupidity. He loved me, He listened. Accepting His perfect invitation, I stepped, healed, under the shadow of His wings.

So to all of the teens out there who think they're down and out, that they've hit rock bottom and there is nothing they can do about it--think again.

God is there, waiting for you to hear Him. Accept His perfect love. He loves you 24/7, no matter what you do, He will always, always, forgive you. Ask Him to come into your life. There's not better way to live than His way.