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I can’t cry; I need to hold it inside. Rocking back and forth I think, “******** you! ******** you for not noticing that I’m about to cry. ******** you for not noticing that I’m hurt. ******** you for not noticing that I’m about to cut myself.” But as I think about picking up the paper cutter and running it along the smooth skin on my wrist, I also think about you wrapping your arms around me and prying it from my fingers. I imagine you whispering in my ear that it will be all right, that you’re here for me, that you’ll protect me. I imagine you stopping the slow back and forth motion of my rocking, and as time slowly subsides, I imagine you tickling my ear with three simple words that will mean everything to me: I love you.