I Am Not Alone

The Gospel according to chapped lips and bloody wrists

She looked at me through desperate eyes. In them, I saw sadness, fear, pain, and regret. As she spoke, I sensed her longing to be seen and known, forgiven and free. I wondered how long it had been since anyone looked at her. I mean, really looked at her. 

When was the last time someone looked into those deep, pain-filled eyes?

The pain of the cuts was fam…