The Silent Struggle Essay

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The Silent Struggle He sat on the cold ground, pain coursing through his back from sitting against the tile wall in his bathroom. Timothy sat with his knees to his chest, tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t take the pain anymore. He stared down at the razor at his feet. With every passing minute the urge to slide the razor across his skin grew. The thought made him sick, and feel weak. He hated himself for even thinking of cutting. The thought made Timothy cry harder and he buried his head further into his knees. Timothy grabbed the razor and threw it across the room. He hated the dark thoughts that keep him up at night. He couldn’t escape them no matter how far he ran; he could never escape them. They seeked to destroy him, piece by peice. After several minutes Timothy wiped away his tears. The pain in his chest swelled, increasing with the passing of time. He needed to calm down, and stop the shaking of his hands. He pulled out his headphones, listening to music. Timothy knew there was one person he could turn to. He reached for his phone. He messaged his online friend Brenda. They haven’t been friends long, but Timothy knew he could tell her anything. New tears swelled in his eyes. Timothy let his tears run, and messaged Brenda. She quickly replied and asked what he was up to. He was going to lie like he had done for the last few weeks, but he couldn’t lie to her. No matter how badly he wanted to hide his pain from Brenda, he couldn’t. So he told her the truth. I’m sitting on my bathroom floor thinking. What about? I’m thinking of everything. Though my thoughts are dark most of the time. Yes, I know. I know you can do this. I don’t think I can. I’m going to be here to hold you up, and help you up. What if I’m not worth the effort? I think you are, and I’m going to anyway. What if all I do is end up hurting you? That’s what love is:

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