By RTF Editor B.J. Hamrick
Here I am again
Back at square one
I thought this would end
It’s only begun
This circle of grief
Traced into my soul
Cracks open and bleeds
I long to be whole
By RTF Editor B.J. Hamrick
One of my friends recently called my boy and I “green”. I wasn’t sure if she meant we were naïve… or eco-friendly. Of course those two labels are synonymous in our small town, where recycling places you in the same gossip category as an eco-terrorist.
I have to admit – my boy and I are slightly on the green side. We’re not obsessed with it, but we try to do things like wash our tin foil, scrub our cat litter, and fertilize our garden with our own septic system. Just kidding about the tin foil. (more…)
By RTF Editor B.J. Hamrick
The scar on your arm
Is only a clue
Of the scar inside
That once terrified you
The fear is gone
The scar remains
A reminder of loss
And the power of pain
Love is a man
With a scar on His arm
It runs deep like yours
He understands harm
The scar on His arm
Is only a clue
Of the scar inside
That He bears for you
****
I wrote this several years ago for a friend when he told me he struggled with cutting himself.
At the time I didn’t tell him that I understood how he felt… I couldn’t even admit to myself that I struggled with self-harm.
Eventually the day came when I was ready to ask for help…
If I knew where he was today, I would tell my friend — you are not alone, and you can be free from this.
I know.
Your journey starts with finding a safe place to be vulnerable…
Contact me or Halee at realteenfaith[at]gmail[dot]com for more information.
By RTF Editor B.J. Hamrick
You’re tangled in her web
It’s obvious to me
There’s nothing I can do
To make you feel or see
She’s bringing you down
Pulling you deep
‘Cause you’re tangled in
Her web of deceit
You’re hanging on her words
Her every phrase so sweet
You’re dancing to the sound
Of her mysterious beat
When the music ends
With weary, tired feet
You’ll despair and die
In her web of deceit
“…for the prostitute reduces you to a loaf of bread, and the adulteress preys upon your very life.”
- Proverbs 6:22
****
A note from B.J.: I know this is a weird poem, but I wrote it a few years ago when I was sad about the path a friend of mine was taking. It was hard to watch him make choices I knew were hurting him… and I know a lot of you are in the midst of similar choices.
I’ve been there. And I want you to know the web is never inescapable. I would love to encourage your heart if you are struggling today. Email me at realteenfaith[at]gmail[dot]com if you need to talk. -bj
By RTF Editor B.J. Hamrick
My True Love,
Why did you leave so soon? We were so close. I spent all my time with you. I told you all my secrets.
You were the first one to know when I had a new story. The first one to know when I had late-night insomnia.
I ate with you. I cried on you. I was entertained by you. (more…)
Dear BJ,
I think my friend might be depressed but I’m not sure. He cries a lot and acts tired all the time. Should I be worried about it, or is he just going through drama?
- Worried (more…)
Hey everybody!
Over the past couple of years we’ve gotten a lot of questions from you guys. Questions about relationships, self-injury, sex, suicide — you name it. Each time we hear from you, we remember why this site is here — because of awesome people like you.
So we just want to remind you that if you have a question, we’d love to hear from you. No topic is off-limits. We would also love to share your question on the site, but you can tell us if you’d rather that we didn’t (we will never share your real name).
So go ahead and unload your problems in the contact box or email us at realteenfaith at gmail.com. Just put “advice” in the subject line.
Drop by every Friday to check out this new feature! Until then, we’re looking forward to your questions!
Halee, BJ, and E.
PS – We’re especially looking for your relationship questions for February!
By RTF Editor B.J. Hamrick
A few years ago I was walking along the sidewalk of a public building, minding my own business, when a woman came flying up to me and skidded to a stop. I swear — there were skid marks from her tennis shoes on the pavement.