What's that? You want to know the story of my life? Well, it's too complicated to put into words. But if you're honestly interested in the story of my life, just look at my wrist. The story of my life is permanently carved upon my wrist. One scar for each time I was miserable. Now, as I sit alone in my darkened room, I prepare to bring the knife down on me again. But what's this? A hand, HIS hand, reaches and takes the knife from me. "No more," he says softly, "promise me there will be no more of this. " And I do promise him that. I swear on my life that I will never harm myself again. I promise him that the story of my life will be written upon paper, and not cut into my wrist. I promise him this, because I love him.