"WHY, God, WHY?!? God, I don't understand WHY! Why can't I hold my tongue? Why can't I just ignore them? Why can't I shut out their frustrating words? Why must I humiliate myself by losing my temper...AGAIN?!? God, please tell me! Will I ever learn to hold my tongue and keep back the angry words I am thinking? Or will I continue to yell my innermost thoughts at people at top volume? Will I ever learn to be sweet and quiet? To be calm and patient? To just sit back and watch things happen? Or will I always lose my temper and take control? Why, God, does this keep happening? Am I just a horrible person? Do you even care?"

"Yes, Amanda, I care."

"Who was that? Did someone say something? Who's there? I wasn't talking to you, whoever you are."

"Yes you were, Amanda. You were asking me WHY."

"Wait, are you..."

"God? Yes. I was listening, Amanda. I'm always listening to you, because I care about you. You ought to know that."

"Well, yeah, I do. But sometimes it doesn't..."

"It doesn't seem that way?"

"No, it doesn't."

"Amanda, I always listen to YOU. The question here is, will you pause a moment to listen to ME?"

"Oh. I'm sorry. Yes, I will listen."

"Good. Amanda, you're a very, very special girl. You're unique, and I love you very much. So, why do you question yourself? Did you ask me for my help in holding your tongue?"

"Umm...no."

"Should you have asked for my help?"

"I suppose so, but it was such a small thing!"

"Yet, though it was a 'small thing', you lost your temper."

"Well, I tried not to!"

"I know, but remember, you can't do things on your strength; you need mine."

"I know."

"So why didn't you ask? Just because it was small?"

"Well, I, um, lied the other day, and I was afraid that you were angry with me."

"Amanda, did you ask me for forgiveness?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I, um... Actually, I don't know."

"I see. Why don't you do that right now?"

"Oh, okay. God, I sinned again, will you please forgive me?"

"Certainly; you were forgiven before you asked. Now, Amanda, to answer your questions: No, you'll never be the person that you think that you should be. You, Amanda, are a very confident, lively and talkative girl. You will always be that, because I created you to be that. Amanda, I love you for who you are, not for what you think you should be. Yes, there are times when you should be calmer, and more patient, but in those times, you need my help. All you have to do, Amanda, is ask for it, and I will help you. You are my beloved child, Amanda.

Now, I have forgiven you already, but you still need to ask forgiveness from those you offended."

"Yes, God. I will do that."

"And remember, Amanda, you are very special to me."

"Yes, God, I will remember."

"I love you, Amanda."

"I love you, God."

As he was reading my goodbye letter that he wrote for me, I felt peace running through my whole body as if it was a closure of all our memories and my own memories till this particular time. He held my hand and he kissed it with passion as if he knew that he was going to lose me within the night. I always felt our special bond but that? How would he know something like that was going to happen? I wondered as I looked into his brown beautiful eyes with a little smile on my face.

He then left the letter and took me in his arms. That hug I'm going to miss so damn much, his hands, his touch when I wasn't feeling good. My eyes were ready to cry but I couldn't do that, not in front of him, not when I'm trying to feel him for one last time before I close my eyes.

His hand came to my face and he moved it so I can face him. We stared for a few minuted at each other and I could tell that he now knew what was happening. His eyes were ready to go rainy but he covered it by giving me a kiss in my forehead, then my chicks and my lips. How different it felt this time, I asked myself.

- Babe are you okay? he asked me.

- I am amazing, my love and thank you for reading me the letter. << I said with a fake smile>>

- Yeah, no problem but my little princess why? << he asked and continued>> Why you wanted to do this so soon?

- Because my love I wanted to know and hear it. << I said and continued>> Because we do not know when our last is going to be and I wanted to do this a little earlier. << Said a little scared of what his reaction could be to my little lie>>

- Is there something that is going on?, Are you dying? << he asked me with a scary face and with a change of his breaths>>

- No, my love but if I ever die, I want you to know that I will still be here with you! << and continued trying to be calm>> Even if I die, I will protect you, I will guide you, I will be up there for anything you're going to need, because I love you always and forever my love. << I said as I was trying to keep my tears back.>>

Couple hours passed by and my body or better my soul started to abandon me little by little. I took his arms and went in for his warmest hug while he was sleeping. I closed my eyes and our moments went by within seconds while tears started to fall. I wasn't ready to leave but my body was telling me otherwise.

- My love, I hope one day you will forgive me for not telling you about my little cancer! You are my light, my guide, my protector, my best friend, my partner in crime, my boyfriend. My always and forever! You deserve happiness, so try and find it after a few years or now. Goodbye my love. Hail and farewell! << and so I closed my eyes and my soul left my body there laying into his arms, hoping that one day he will forgive me for not telling him. >>

I’m to young. I’m to new.

I’m damaged, but theres more room.

There's always more room for pain, you can never have to much pain.

I sit, I sit and let you give me more.

I let you hurt me.

Hurt.

I’m so sacred, always so scared..

I let you damage me forever.

My life is filled with running, crying, beating, lying.

My life, its inconsistency, mixed with poverty, topped with fear ..

p.s. Ima drop domestic violence here.

.. and yet you find a new way to hurt me, and I’m scared, I’m already so scared, I never tell.

I can’t feel anything anymore. There is no joy, no sorrow, nothing. But somehow everything hurts. I don’t understand it. I need something definite. That’s what the knife is for. I understand that feeling. I understand why it hurts when I slice into the skin. It’s physical pain. I can control it. I can control how deep, how long, and how much it will sting. I like it when they bleed. What should I do today? A word? A picture? Oh, I know! One cut until I reach my age.

One cut.

No one ever notices the lines.

Two cuts.

No one would care even if they did.

Three cuts.

It’s because no one cares about me.

Four cuts.

My parents ignore me and tell me to go away.

Five cuts.

I don’t think they love me.

Six cuts.

The handle to the bathroom door turns. I freeze, staring at the shiny metal handle. Mom and Dad aren’t supposed to be home. Who’s home? I don’t have time to hide the knife. I don’t have time to roll down my sleeves. The door creaks open. My heart is pounding. My stomach is flip flopping.

Kayla walks into the bathroom. “Oh, sorry sis. I didn’t…what are you doing?”

I look down at my arm. There are only six cuts. I’m not going to be able to finish. Kayla will yell at me. Then she’ll tell Mom and Dad. They’ll yell at me too. They won’t get it. This is the only feeling I understand.

“This is the only feeling I understand,” I whisper.

Silence.

I don’t know how long it lasts. But it feels like forever. Kayla sighs. Then she starts to do something. I look up at her, though I don’t meet her eyes. She shuts the bathroom door. Then she turns and pulls down her leggings.

There are lots of angry looking lines on her thighs. Some are small. Some have healed and scarred. Some spell out words. Fat. Ugly. Worthless. There’s a fresh word on one of her legs. It’s tiny. I squint to see it better.

Whore.

I look up at her, but she looks away in shame.

“What does whore mean?” I ask quietly.

She still doesn’t look at me. “It’s what I’ve become. It’s a feeling I understand. You’ll get what it means in a few years.”

Maybe Kayla understands. I pat the floor beside me.

“When did you start?” she asks in a soft voice, sitting down beside me.

“Couple months ago.”

She pushes my hair out of my face gently. “I started when I was your age, too."

I want to finish my cuts. I’m almost done. But I don’t know if she’ll let me.

“Is it okay if I finish? I’m almost done,” I ask, bracing myself for her response. She stares into my eyes for a moment. She’s going to say no. She’s going to tell me to stop.

“Okay.”

She said okay. She does understand. I position the knife carefully next to the previous cut and push firmly down.

Seven.

Maybe I’m not completely alone. “I like it when they bleed a lot,” I say.

Eight.

Maybe Kayla does care about me. “Me too,” she says.

Nine.

“I love you,” Kayla whispers as I finish my final cut. I look up at her and see tears brimming in her eyes.

“You’re seventeen now. Does it ever get better?” I ask, feeling little drops in the corner of mine.

Kayla shakes her head sadly. “I wish I could tell you it does.”

I crawl into her lap, and she wraps her arms around me tightly. We sit, crying silently. Neither of us can stand loud noises. I forgot that earlier. She never yells at me. She’s the only one. Kayla strokes my hair gently, and I feel her body shaking slightly. Mine is shaking too. Everything is quiet. And for the first time in a long time, I feel something else. I feel safe.

Kayla breaks the silence. “Wanna go get some ice-cream?”

I look up at her tear-stained face and give her a watery smile. “Yeah.”