Journey Back to the Cross

I was raised as a christian, and as far as anyone could tell I was a good one. A happy one. But that was only on the outside. On the inside I was angry at everyone, especially God.
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My hand shook as I grasped the cool metal in my hand, my body shook with sobs. I cringed as I cut into my own flesh. The fresh blood flowing from my body seemed to take my anger with it. I let it run down my arm like the tears ran down my face. As the blood clotted the anger began to build up again. The tears did not stop with the blood, in fact they increased. My whole body shook with anger, pain, and disappointment. "I was never supposed to be this kid" I thought, almost out loud. "Never supposed to be depressed, never supposed to intentionally hurt myself"
I fell to my knees and threw the razor against the wall and I cried out to God.I still don't know why I decided to pray that night. I was so mad at God for everything he's done to me, and i certainly let him know it that night. But I guess it was like any other fight, after you get it off your chest it feels better. But it wasn't like and relief I had ever felt before. As I prayed the tears stopped, the anger was lifted, and all that was left in my heart was peace. Peace I had not known in a long time. I would come to find this peace more as time went on, as i progressed in my journey. But that night sitting on my bedroom floor I felt God sitting there with me, wiping my tears. I knew he had suffered with me through the hard times and he would bring me through the hard times that were to come. I was on my road to recovery, after all he did come to Bind up the broken hearted and seek and save the lost.