"How should I feel?"
That's the only thing the girl could ask herself.
Is her chest supposed to feel this heavy?
Are her tears supposed to be this painful, when the pain isn't even physical?
How come this feeling only appears at night when all is quiet?
When she's no longer surrounded by people, when she couldn't pretend anymore.
Thoughts trickle in...
Should I hurt myself?
Will that relieve the deep pain I feel?
She was just so tired of life.
But she couldn't do it.
Because she knew how awful she would feel if she would have to look at herself.
She could only drag her fingers along her face.
Not having the strength nor courage to dig them into her flesh.
Knowing that a scarred body would only make her feel worse.
She is a coward.
She could only write about herself in third person.
She is a coward.
I.. am a coward!
Sincerely yours,
fluorescentreader