Whispers. Everywhere. Sometimes I think I've finally cracked. Here I sit, day after day after day. Night seems to blend with daylight hours. I sit here, always. My feet don't move, my arms stay locked in this position. I refuse any offers of food or water. I have fasted for fourty days and fourty nights. My vigil will not end. Ever. Until I finally receive the truth. The accident took away my freedom of movement, my only freedom. The accident took my parents. The accident took my love of life. I know that someday, I'll waste away to nothingness, but death is what I prefer to this. What I had held dear was taken away from me. Each morning, I wake, screaming. Each night I shiver and sweat, nightmares taking possession of my dreams. Each day I stare at the wall, taking in the reality. Nothing can heal this ice cold pain, this frozen arctic pain. The docters say that I will walk again. But will I walk in memory lane? Will I find that ache unbearable? Will I take on the cool steel harm, to end this misery that haunts my very breaths? I have often considered this way out, the easy passage to doom, but I have realized that life is meant to be lived to the fullest, and that means that pain is inevitable, a part of the experience. Some experience lesser pains, but more of them. Some, like me, experience heart-rending pains. We feel empty, like life is just a corridor to death. We feel the dull ache of emptiness. We feel the harshness of the world, its cold truths. We feel as if we keep being torn apart, as if we are mended with time, but another trajedy comes along and devors the strings that hold us together.

I realize now, that life is one life, but death is another journey. To Heaven or (excuse my language, this definition is of the place so, technically, it's not a swear word) Hell. Either way, it is another journey. Hell is where you experience death again and again, being burnt only to be snapped again. Heaven is a much more preferrable place, being eternal life and all. I think my mom and dad are watching me waste away from Heaven, disappointed in my lack of belief and faith in God. I now believe that being handicapped for several months is not the worst of it, that it gives me time to revive my soul from its painful experience. I see that God has given me time to realize this truth. He gave me an experience that will only strengthen my trust in Him. I know that Christianity isn't always ponies and rainbow, sometimes the ponies buck and the rainbows are rained on, but God only uses that to pull me closer. I may think He's trying to push me away, but later on, I come to appreciate the hardships and trials He's allowed to happen. Take sickness for example, you may think that cancer or idiopathic thrombocytopenic pupura is a punishment and God enjoys watching you or your friend or family member slip closer to death, but, the truth is, is pains Him to see your illnesses. Now you probably think, "Why doesn't He stop it?" Well, He doesn't stop it because it draws you closer to Him, He does it to show the full extent of His love and comfort.

"Come," He says to me now, "It is time to mend your wounds..."

((lol, this isn't my troubles, except for ITP, it is a character of mine, but what she says is my thoughts))