Hey, you.

I don't know why you've been so down lately, and I don't know why there are tears in your eyes. I'm not sure what you're feeling, and I can't tell you how to fix it. But I don't have to know what's going on to know that you'll be okay.

Not so long ago, I was like you. No one understood. No one really tried to understand. At the same time, I didn't really try to explain. How could I? How could I explain that the only thing that could soothe me was the sight of fresh crimson drops of blood beading on my skin and the sting of metal slicing a thin, clean cut? So I guess that's why I understand that inability to put the hurt into words.

Anyone could've told me it would get better. Maybe someone did when I wasn't listening, too lost in my own despair to pay attention. It didn't matter that I couldn't hear; it wouldn't have made a difference.

The problem is that we look for a perfect solution, a better outcome, a brighter future. We skip past the problem-solving, and we expect the right answer to just be there. Life doesn't work that way. We won't wake up one morning to a perfect society filled with perfect people. We won't wake up to find our problems neatly tied up with bows, stacked in the corner of the attic.

People will tell you that you need to look on the bright side, put your chin up, and keep your head high. And they'll want you to do that now. They want to blink and see you healthy and improved.

That's not how I made it through. I made it through one day at a time. I didn't promise to never pick up the blade again. I promised myself one night without it. When morning came, I promised myself one more night, and on and on until I no longer needed words and promises to stop myself.

Somehow, just by promising myself one more night, I found a different strength, a way to deal with the problems in my life. I realized that I didn't need a blade to remind me that I am tough, I am strong, and I am alive.

Quitting a bad habit didn't automatically make everything better. It wasn't a solution to all of the problems, but it was the solution to one. It was the severance of me from a terrible vice that controlled my actions day after day.

Looking at the scars, all I can think is that I am tough, I am strong, and I am alive.

Looking at you, I can see that you are tough, you are strong, and you are alive, too.