She lost it.
In all the drugs, my girl floated away.
Barely spoke, never ate, she was a walking skeleton.
Her eyes were dead and tired, and her hair turned straw like and began to fall out. Her skin always slightly grey.
When she did speak it was hollow, her voice a mere echo. Her pain wasn't beautiful anymore. It was just
Cold
Sharp
Deadly.
Sad.
She had officially been broken and turned inside out. The world expected so much from such a young girl.
We were 13.
Some say that 13 is too young to feel such things, but I can tell you first hand that there's no such thing as too young.
As her disease began to kill her from the inside out,
She gave it to me.
I ceased to speak as well. Why on earth would I want to speak to anyone but her?
None of the rest of them cared about me anyways.
They called me a whore,
A slut,
A skank.
Told me my boobs were saggy,
My face was ugly,
And I must have been cheap.
I took a right turn down into nowhere.
I finally understood her wonderful pain and it was not what I expected.
It was no grim fairy tale, dark glitter and shadow encasing the night.
It was a black box.
Barely big enough to move
Getting smaller all the time
I couldn't see outside.
When I made holes in myself I made holes in the box.
I could see outside for a second.
But that wasn't real either.
All I saw was shadow.
I was so, so fucking scared.
What had she gotten me into?
YOU ARE READING
When we were wintergirls
RandomIf you have heard of the story wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson then you will understand. That book really hit me hard. It made me realise how unhealthy I was. How unhealthy our relationship was. I loved her. But it was killing me. She just kept...
