When she was younger she liked Barbies. She thought they were perfect and fun to play with, and she idolized them playfully...
but soon fun wasn't really all that fun anymore.
As she got older she began noticing that society wasn't all that nice. She wanted to be perfect like a Barbie. The make up, the curves, the flawless type, right? That was her goal. She strived for it.
The pressure surrounded her, it was all too much. She wouldn't eat. She tried hiding her once happy face with the make up that apparently made her more beautiful. She would stand in the mirror and see fat, even though in reality thats what she needed instead of the hollow bones that hid beneath her hoodie. She imprinted her skin that left a trail of scars but they were covered up.
Nobody cared. Nobody noticed.
People didn't think it was bad at all, to tease her and make stupid remarks. Little did they know each word being said to her pushed her even closer to the edge. She was right there, trying to hold on. But one day, she was at the end. She couldn't handle it.
And now she's lying on her bedroom floor, yet to have her parents discover her lifeless, cold body. In her hand was the empty container that once held the now consumed pills. In the other hand was placed a note.
The note was a salute to all those who had stayed by her side, but even they hadn't noticed. It was a sincere apology to those who actually cared. A shoutout to those who pushed her to commit.
Now she was happy. In heaven. Where she wouldn't be judged. Where she could just be happy.
Which is all she ever wanted.
