She sits alone in my room in the dark, pretending she is not dying on the inside. She tries not to cry. She doesn't want to be weak. With shallow breaths and a shaky voice she tries to sing along with the music, trying to take her mind off the pain. Her head is spinning. The world is crashing. She just want to sleep and not wake up. She likes sleep. Sleep is her friend. It takes her pain away. It gives her time to be happy, and unconscious. Sleep is like death, except she is forced to wake up.
All she wants is to be pretty. All she wants is to be smart. She wants to be funny. She wants to erase my past. She would rather be anyone, but herself. She hates what she see in the mirror. All she sees is a fat, ugly, freak who is hopeless. Every day is a struggle. It's like she's underwater, the longer she's there the harder it is to stay alive. Its harder to be her. Smiles are getting easer to fake. Her tears keep getting heavier. No one understands. They understand their pain, not hers, and no matter how she tries- she's failing. She can try to be strong, but she is still drowning.
She can't even be called beautiful by her own boyfriend. It starts a fight. Every time she gets called pretty or any compliment for that matter, it hurts. To her, it's just a reminder on how she's not. It is a reminder on how she's not enough. Its just another way for the demons to win. It's another way for them to mock her.
No one even cares what she feels. They would rather be happy thinking she's happy, then to go through the pain with her. They let themselves fall for the fake smiles. They stopped caring. They stopped being fazed by her constant pain. They just say 'its just her being a girl' or 'that's how all teenagers feel'. No one even cares about the way she's hurting. No one wants to understand. They would rather burry their heads in the sand and pretend she is alright then to help her.
Not that you can help her. Some people are a lost cause. She is one of them. She doesn't want to be saved. To her- there is no point is trying anymore. Everything hurts. Nothing is rights. Everything is wrong. Sometimes she thinks there is hope for her, then, she pushes the covers off her, looks in the mirror, and realize, damn life if worthless. Grief wouldn't last long, she figures. No one would truly miss her. That's how they make her feel.
Like they say, no one cares unless your pretty or dead. Since she can never be pretty, she'll just go with being dead. Oh, how she longs for someone to notice her tears. Sometimes the scars are for attention. They sometimes are a cry for help. Other times- she tries to make the voices stop. She tries to shut the doubt out. No one even wants to help her, she thinks. She couldn't fathom somebody wanting to help her.
When people do ask how she is, she has to say 'fine'. Its expected of her. If she does break down and talk about her feelings they will know how damaged she was. And, she would go to hell before that happened. Letting others in is just a way of reminding her she isn't strong enough to deal with it on her own. Its a constant reminder on how she doesn't deserve people. She is suppose to fake the smiles, hide the tears, and make excuses for the scars. Its expected of her.
When she eat, her stomach might be silent, but her brain is screaming. "A few days without food isn't enough for you," it yells. Food is one of the worst enemies she can have. It is like a drug. It taste good. Everyone else is using it. She is determined not to touch it. Though that doesn't last long. Food scares her more than anything. It is one of her worst enemies. It intimidates her. It controls her. It hates her as much as she hates it, but it wont let her go.
The mirror is like the boss level in the game. It makes her physically look at herself. It reminds her constantly how she is ugly, how she is fat, how her hair won't ever be as pretty as the other girls. It may come across as vein when others see her looking in the mirror as much as she does, but she can't help it. Its like a moth being drawn to a light, prey being drawn into the predators. She gets captivated. She can't look away. The only thing that goes through her mind is 'is that really what I look like?'. She hates the mirror. It loves her. She is, after all, its favorite victim.
Its so hard to be her. If anyone finds out she thinks that- they say she's a spoiled brat. Little do they know her dad passes out drunk every night. Little do they know she's had to protect her older brother from getting a beating, just for him to turn around and hit her. Little do they know they dirty remarks her farther makes about her when no one else is around. Little do they know she isn't spoiled. She may not get punished, but that's only because, they simply don't have time to deal with her.
When the girl is sad, she just makes a joke. She tries smiling threw the pain. If she doesn't others might she what she's hiding. Nothing hurts her more than herself. Lately everything as been getting worse. Fake smiles are getting faker, tears pour more often, cuts are getting deeper. Everything hurts. Her head, her back, her brain, her legs, her stomach. Everything hurts. Everything, except her heart. Its numb, she can't feel anymore. Things that use to clearly make her happy, make her question her devotion towards it.
She will always be the lonely one. She will always be the confused one. That's not who she wants to be any more. She is tired. Breaths get even more shallow. An eerie calm invades the atmosphere of the depressing mood. Her silent sobs and hushed sniffles soon stop all together. She's done. She gives up. Realization hits her. Suicide isn't weak. What's weak is forcing someone to stay in this word - when they are miserable and clear want to go- just so you wont have to grieve. Don't cry she's gone. She was already dead, just on the inside. Her tears were left unnoticed before, don't go acting like she didn't try to show you her pain. It was just to much for you to bear. So, you left her to deal with it on her own. This is her final goodbye.
A/N: Comment if you can relate?
