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…
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