Exceptional A Cutter's Letter to God No Name Child by Mrs. KT      Contest Winner

Hey, God: It's me.  Nobody else.  Just me. Me...again. I hurt.  So much.  Always hurting. Hear me.  Heal me. Insides hurting.  Outsides bleeding. So empty. So tired. So alone. Afraid, too.  A little.  Not really.  A lot. Please, listen.  Hear me.  Heal me. Too late? Any forgiveness? Too late? "I'm sorry."  Too late? Always mistakes. Always asking. Always cutting. I know. Too many.  Keeping count?   I am.  Can't stop. I promise. Every day. I promise. No more. No cutting. No slashing.  No lying. Every day.  More mistakes.  More transgressions. It's hard. So hard. You'll forgive?  Can You?  Will You? Should You?  I'm begging. I'm pleading. For myself. The cut. This time. Too deep. Too deep. Can't stop.  Razor glistening.  No surrender.  No forgiveness. It's over.  I'm powerless.   Damn THEM! Damn ME! Damn YOU!  Still listening? Save me... Please, God... I can't. I've tried. I've failed. It's over.  I'm diseased.  No cure. Razor burning.   Hands trembling.  Heart pounding. Who cares?  I'm nothing.  I'm nowhere.  I'm nobody. No respect. No remorse. No regrets. No redemption.  Release me. Your child, No name Contest Winner Recognized Author Notes They call themselves, "Cutters." They are young men and women who cut themselves. Sometimes daily. They cut because they feel alone and isolated and insignificant. They come from every socio-economic background and ethnic group, but most are Caucasian middle-class teenage girls. In the past two years, I have had four of these young women in my classes. . . maybe more...

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