Therapy.
She walks in.
She walks out.
"I'm not that bad."
She says.
Not yet anyway.
Three weeks later, covered in scars that remind her of her pain..
She walks in again.
And yet again she walks out.
"Many people have it worse than I do."
She convinces herself.
Two months later.
A funeral.
It's her own.
All the people wonder why she didn't get help.
They wonder if she even tried.
On her tombstone it reads;
"Never walk in, with the intention of walking out."
