She lays there, on the bathroom floor, her hair fanning around her face to rest on the grimy tile. Tears soil her face and her face is red and blotchy. She sobs quietly inside the stall, her life falling to pieces before her eyes. She is shattering, falling, tumbling down with a clamor. If she breaks and nobody chooses to hear it, does it still make a sound?
No one can hear her. Her body is a corpse. Folded up, motionless. Her will to live is almost gone. Her eyes are staring in front of her, wide open. Not really looking, and not really seeing, only blinking occasionally. The eyes that were once fiery, warm and full of passion are now brown pits of despair. The scars she never had the courage to make on her wrist now mar her spirit and slaughter her soul. The immortal voices of disappointment and discouragement echoes in her ears. She tries to block it out, listening to music that reverberates with broken promises. But just like with every other thing in her life, she fails.
The world keeps turning with the happiness that she rarely knows. The Earth and most of the people on it are wicked, corrupted by manipulation, lies and greed. By apathy for others. When she's in class or walking in the halls, she listens to the problems of whiny little girls. Girls who couldn't even begin to understand the torment she goes through everyday. She watches plastic smiles and painted faces in the twisted circus of life. The circus where hers is a balancing act, and she is so close to free falling.
Everyday she tries to hold it together and everyday she goes home feeling the sagging weight of depression on her shoulders. She's no good, doesn't matter. The deathless words and immortal taunts will haunt her forever. She will forever remember how she was bullied as a young girl, taken advantage of as a teenager and ignored as a young woman. Every time she feels she has room to breathe, the burden crushes her lungs, suffocating her and destroying any chance she had of happiness.
But as she lays on the bathroom floor, all this running through her mind, she has to think that the world is wrong and cruel. That just because everybody says or thinks something doesn't mean it's true. She has to think that she will do herself proud, even if her parents' attention is focused elsewhere. She has to disregard the part of her that is broken and she has to try to put the pieces together. She has to believe that they were wrong about her.
Because if they weren't, what does she have left to live for?
And ever so slowly, she sits up, giving herself another chance. She realizes that nobody can make it better. She has to make it better for herself.
I hope you found this helpful...I'm sorry you |had/'re having| a bad day; I get those too.
Points: 278
Reviews: 7
Donate