It Doesn't Take Much To Make a Difference.

At first all I could see were the scars on her forearm from where she'd been cutting for so long, but then I saw the black Sharpie marker scribbled on her left hand, exactly where I had written on her a month earlier...

1%

She had re-written it over and over and over again each week since we'd last talked.

Why 1%...what's so important about 1%?

It was a stupid little spur-of-the-moment idea.  I told her that all she had to do was try...was to try to get better a tiny bit at a time...just 1% every day.  It would add up.  If you think about it, if we're not getting better then we're getting worse. It's impossible to stay the same.  All she needed to do was shoot for 1% every day.  If she could just manage 1% change every day then it would add up.  Her life would change.

I guess that little spur-of-the-moment idea actually meant something to her, which means something to me.  Sometimes you just wonder if anyone is listening.  I guess they were.

I think about her all of the time.  I hope she manages.