I was the girl who knew how to be how to be happy when I wasn't, but even that was a lie. I was good at pretending, I've done it my whole whole life. It didn't matter how many times I was told how pretty I was, because I was so broken on the inside. Once you throw a glass at a wall and it shatters there is no putting it back together. I believe the same is with the soul. You are never completely you again, you just get good at pretending until you start to believe it. I was only 18 with my whole life in front of me, so why did I feel differently. Scars never go away and memories just make it worse when you just can't seem to forget or forgive. Those scars..those memories were put there by someone you would never think would hurt me. Every story has an end right? Truth is, I don't know when it will.
