Dear Brittany,

You are 12 years old, and life is about to be turned upside down. It is going to be one heck of a ride, so hold on tight. You are going to go through some very dark times, but I promise you: You will make it out alive.

You are going to pick up a knife and drag it across your skin, and it will be a very long time before you put it down again. I know. You promised yourself at a young age that you would never do this, but you did. Do not be ashamed of it. Do not keep it to yourself. You are going to miss short sleeves and shorts and being able to swim with your friends. You are going to become an expert at keeping your wounds clean and covering up scars.

You will hurt. You will be disgusted by what you are doing, and you think you will never escape from it. One day, you are going to walk down the hallways of your eighth-grade school and ask for help. It will feel like your life is crumbling down; it will be utter hell for awhile. Still, I promise you will come out of this, strong.

But I won't tell you to not pick up the knife.

You are going to make bad decisions. Everyone makes bad choices, and you are going to make some pretty screwed up ones. Do not let yours haunt you. The guilt will eat you alive as you grow older. Forgive yourself.

But I won't tell you to not make those decisions.

You are going to feel lonely, and you're going to lose people. You've had a lot of people leave you before, and it will keep happening. Do not let it phase you. Keep going. There will be a few people that you are going to become close to that will save your life. Being alone for so long will make you appreciate the love you have for your friends now.

But I won't tell you to not feel lonely.

Don't most people that write letters to their younger selves tell them to not do the stupid things they did?

If they do, I won't.

When someone once posed the question to me, "If you could change any decision in your life, what would it be?" I could have said I would have never cut myself, never make certain choices or to not let myself think I was as lonely as I felt. After thinking for awhile about it, I responded with nothing.

It is true that I would save myself a lot of hell having never done those things. I would not be me if I had never made those choices. The things I have done, the battles I have fought and the emotions I have felt, they have all made me into who I am. Every scar is a story and a lesson learned; everything I have experienced has pieced together the beautiful mosaic I am today. I love who I am, and I love the story I have to tell.

I write this to myself as an encouragement that I have survived. I write this so that others know: Their living is not in vain. There will come a time when you are no longer in pain.