Listen
I once knew this girl who was never at peace. “Who am I?” She would sigh, feeling like she lost all hope. The room was dark and silent as she combed her fingers through her hair. Although she didn’t know the answer to her question, she was hoping that someone would give her an answer. The night was coming to an end, “Anything,” she pleaded, “Show me that you’re listening.”
As she walked through the halls at her school, the lights were as bright as the sun, yet she was engulfed by the darkness within her soul. She didn’t know how to cope and she wasn’t seeking for help, but she craved it terribly. Her friends waved at her, greeting her with excitement, and she had to pretend that everything was just fine. Laugh, talk, and fake a smile, she would repeat in her head. She resisted the tears as they threatened to escape her eyes but the feeling of them on her cheeks lingered in the air. 
It was a show. A mask. A disguise. She didn’t want anyone to find out about her skipping meals or the blood stained bracelets plastered on her wrists. The only thing she could think of was how others will react when they find out. She didn’t want sympathy, worry, or anything in between. All she wanted was an answer. Her lips moved as the tears spilled into the ocean that laid beneath her. She pleaded for an answer in any way that she could receive it. Nothing.
When she shut her bedroom door, the whole world would come to a halt. The clock that ticked every second paused and the sound of the voices around her began to raise, louder and louder until she heard nothing but silence. The same thing she heard when she talked to him. Lifeless, cold, silence. Soon she’d give up, she thought. The only thing that motivated her to strive forward was the expectation of something great. A small chance to be revived and removed out of misery and dejection.
People began to notice; the darkness began to resemble her life and eyes around her began to scrutinize her entirety. They pointed out what she thought they paid no attention to. The bags under her eyes, her skinny arms, her fake smile, and most of her, the persona she claimed to be. Once everything came out of the box, everyone dispersed. “Why”, she’d ask him over and over. “Why me? What did I do wrong?”
As she sat down on her bed, she huffed in exhaustion. “I’m lost,” she’d say. The room stayed silent and still, leaving her nothing but disappointment. She knew this place well, she just didn’t recognize who or where she was. The cherry wood mirror stood in the corner of the room and she stood up from her bed. She walked over in front of the framed glass with her eyes on the floor. She was too afraid to look into a mirror because she knew she was a mess, a wreck, and a fraud.
But as she gradually raised her eyes, she braced herself for what was to come. The person standing in front of her resembled myself. The girl I knew that self-destructed was who I was growing on the inside. The projection of my insecurities and complications shined through me so exaggeratedly, I couldn’t recognize myself. As I stared at the girl in the mirror, the weight of the world landed on my feet and paralyzed me. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t even think for myself. After begging for a sign from God Himself, He decided it was time for an answer.
Then suddenly I felt my body become numb as his voice filled the vacancy in my heart. “I’m here,” He said, “I’ve always been here.” Hearing those words resulted in tears gushing out of my eyes that I’ve bottled up for so long. They weren’t tears of sadness, but of joy and of a rejoicing soul. He was always listening, but it was my turn to listen to Him.