Anxiety flowed within her veins. Depression in her throat. No escape. This is real. This isn't a happy story. Don't expect to be uplifted. This is dark. This is real.
She carries herself with grace. Truly classy. She acts as if she owes everyone kindness. No one guessed what happened behind her masquerade.
A rough beginning in her life. Abandoned. Orphaned. Growing up she was a fire. A spark, something glowing and precious at the same time. But like most sparks, she died. Killed by the wind, the direction all wish to lead. Refusing the wind, refusing her society brought upon her depressing death.
Age ten. Never kissed a boy. Never drove a car. Never even passed elementary school. Dead.
Her body lived on, along with her broken pieces. But her spirit remained dead.
