Sunday, 17 December 2006
08:29:14 PM (GMT)
One day she came home from school just as normal as any other day in her life;
bullied by the jocks and tormented by the anerexic preps. They all said she should
just rot in hell and the girl simply slammed her fist right square into one of those
preppy girl's face. She pretended that the teasing and taunting didn't bother her but
the truth hidden behind her bad attitude and independance was a small child
frightened and wondering why they did and said those nasty things to her.
Upon arriving home her mother started raising cane because the house wasn't clean
when she got there. As always the girl cussed out her mother and then ran to her room
where she curled up in a ball and cried. All she wanted was to know why...
Then a thought swept through her mind, a thought that hadn't passed since she was
"I'll write a letter to Jesus. Even if he never gets it..." she said to herself.
She took pale pink stationery from her bottom dresser droor and a blue ink pen from
the jar on her desk. She then sat and it take any time at all before she started tell
her Lord, (whom she hadn't spoken to in a very long time) everything she felt.
Have you ever felt alone? Afraid and so lost?
Did you think of home as you hung from the cross?
Why is it me and not some other?
I want a better relationship with my mother.
Was it hard to die for your people? Their sins and the bad things they do?
Now you must sit back and cry as you watch what's happening to the world... I would
do the same too.
Is anything ever enough?
Is money everything to everyone... even us?
Is my life dull and worthless as they say?
Will I always go through this day after day?
Please tell me, are you really there?
Do you savor me and all races? Treat us equal and fair?
If I pick up this razor blade now
Will you stop me someway, somehow?
Why is it me once again I ask you?
Do I not deserved to be loved by you too?
These last words I tell you here
I am not afraid and I do not fear.
I'm just so lost and afraid.
Like a deck of old cards I've been shuffled and played.
Here I am writing to you when you will never write words I can see
But my dear Jesus I must ask you...
will you show mercy for me?
She folded the letter and laid it on her window sill, then she climbed into bed and
drifted into a deep sleep filled with dreams of her Lord's oopen arms.
The next she awoke so early that it was still dark outside. She looked to the window
sill and took her letter, then she noticed that it wasn't the pink paper she had
used, but a beautiful clean white with golden embroidery on the edges and little
doves sketched into the back. She opened in curiosity and read to herself:
I am always disappointed in my people and sins
But that doesn't mean that my love for them ends.
Who are they to say you're no better than they are?
You're just as beautiful and talented by far.
You hold a precious heart and soul.
Never let anyone turn your warmth to cold.
I am always with you and I see
The things you have done and the times you cursed me.
I am always full of forgiveness and love
For those who kneel down and pray to the above.
I do decide your fate
Destiny and time are things I do make.
But dear Child only you can make your choices.
I simply create outcomes and your conscience clear voices.
So now I let you make your own decision.
I let you put one foot ahead and keep straight with your vision.
My dear child you are not blind and I know that you see
How much mercy is raining from me.
Perhaps fate, coincidence or some other outrageous and bazaar miracle happened that
night, but the girl knew for sure what she had to do. She threw out every last one of
her razor blades and went to church that very day...