"He has become my salvation."
-Psalm 118:14b
Should it matter? Should I care? I see the scars on my arm and leg, but I feel nothing. There is no remorse; apathy clouds my mind. Despite the improvements over the past year, the question remains about the day that I die: will it be at my own hand? Because I already do not care about the harm I have inflicted upon myself before, I cannot perceive a reason that the desire to die should not return. Moments change, and thoughts flow with them. I may not possess any will to hurt myself now, but I cannot predict tomorrow. Times come when I long to be sucked into the darkness, into sorrow. The world itself appears less bright, and I feel alone. What have we done to the gift with which God has blessed us?
If God loves us, surely He does not wish for us to inflict harm upon ourselves. I innately hold a strong sense of discernment. I naturally distinguish between right and wrong. So then why does it still not bother me that the largest scars I have are self-inflicted? I cry for the pain of others. I pray that they would discover their Father and His love. I long to witness their freedom from suffering. It burns inside that so many do not know Him. And yet I do not care enough about myself to feel anything at all. If I ever feel the desire to cut myself in the future, I will. Nothing will stop me because I lack any sense that it's "bad".
I say I have accepted God. But have I really if I continue to hurt myself? Can I really blame it on my mind, or is that simply deflecting responsibility for the actions of my own hands? In those moments I am lost. I do not think rationally. Nothing penetrates the fog of my mind. Yet, if I kill myself someday, does that matter? Where would I go? I cannot believe that God would condone suicide; He values life over all else. But perhaps in our inability to escape the reaches of Satan we find grace.
I realize that Jesus died for me. In His suffering we discover that we were enough for Him despite our sin. He wanted us to be with Him so much so that He suffered a brutal murder. If I did not matter, the crucifixion would not have occurred. Perhaps the devil wields a greater strength than we recognize. Satan easily claws his way into our minds. He forces water into our lungs, reveling as he brings us down with him. Since he cannot escape death, he will ensure that others join him. He tells us that we are not worth it. No one will notice if we disappear. We will simply fade out; it does not matter if we are here or not, that is, alive or not. He eclipses the Son, removing the will to pray for deliverance. Stealing our desire for Light, he pushes us further on our journey downwards. He is strong. God is stronger. But as for me, I am weak. And I can hardly run.