Every Rose Has Its Thorn

The summer before I started high school, I got so tired of fighting with myself. My parents were upset with me. I didn't speak to anyone at all. I ate all the time. I was covered in scars from cigarette lights and razor blades from head to toe, but the pain wasn't enough to numb my hatred for myself anymore. I was a burden, a burning cross for my parents to carry around.
So, I did the merciful thing.
I ran myself a warm bath, swallowed a handful of pills from the medicine cabinet, and sliced my legs and arms open for good measure. My parents found me early enough. They said I had screamed.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital room, mad at the world. I wanted to die, but even that didn't work out for me. My parents became embarrassed and distant. I missed the very first week of my high school years because I was having blood pumped back into my body.
Finally, I went back to school.
I made friends easily and fell in love when I was a sophomore. I found a passion: writing.
Today, I am 16 years old and getting ready to turn 17 in December. In May of 2017, I will graduate high school; I'm part of the National Honor Society and currently in the process of having my own business. I have a best friend that would do anything for me and a supportive boyfriend.
At 14, I could have died. But I didn't.
I would have missed everything. I wouldn't know how the pen feels in my hands as I bleed ink across the paper or the way the wind feels in my hair from the passenger window of my mom's car or how beautiful my best friend looked on her first date. But I get to experience these things.
And I am so grateful.
Some nights, it still hurts and I cry into my pillow while on the phone with my boyfriend and it feels like the world is going to pieces around me.
But it goes away.
It.
Goes.
Away.
It takes strength and determination to recover. But you have to believe in yourself.
I am beautiful and worthwhile and so is every other soul like me. We are strong enough to get better. Pain is temporary, but the satisfaction and pride of getting to say "I won" is forever.
So please, if you're feeling hopeless, read a poem or look at the clouds, paint a picture.
Do anything but don't give up, because in two years who knows how beautiful your life will be?
Trust me, you want to be there to find out.