She was the most popular girl in school. She was sweet, pretty, and smart. Everyone liked her, she always was trying to help people with homework and if someone was sad she would try to console them. She was always smiling, always happy. But that was only in public. At home she was a mess. Her parents loved her very much. Tried everything to make her happy, she seen how much they worked to make her depression go away. So she decided that they would be happier if it did go away. She pretended to be happy. She smiled, laughed, and acted like everything was fine again. But then she would lock herself in her room at night. The demons that lived inside her mind would take over. She would cry herself to sleep every night cutting her thighs because they checked her wrist. She had thought about suicide before. And now she wanted to leave for good. She was tired of pretending to be happy. She wanted someone that she could go to just to cry. But she had no one. No real friends.
She looked down at the blade that sat on her nightstand. She rocked back and forth on her bed before finally taking it and running it across her skin. She started out with a shallow cut. Then the next one was deeper, and deeper, until finally she hit her vien. She watched as the blood poured to the floor, forever staining the carpet. They would never be able to forget the next morning when they would find her lifeless body laying on the floor. The room blurred and she fell to the ground.
It was finally over. No more pretending. No more crying everynight. No more sadness. Just happiness.
