And she realized one day, as she was sitting under a tree, and a large branch above her head cracked, when all she was worried about was her cup of water spilling, that it was bad. That she didn't care if she died. Because she didn't want to be here anyway. Not with all the chaos and turmoil. And not with the fact that she was mostly the cause of it in her house. The monsters in her head, the words on her skin, she didn't want it. Not anymore. She needed someone to find her. To save her, from herself. And people were there, but she needed someone to stop her. But everyone kept a distance. Those who knew, that is. No one really knew though, no one knew how bad it was. The thoughts, the lies, the scars, no one knew how bad she hurt, on the inside. The only reasons she was still here, she told me, was because she always kept it in her mind that things would get better, even if the pain only grew worse. And because of her mom. Her mother never ceased to tell her how much she loved her, and how much she appreciated her, and the things she did. The love, that existed for her in her mothers eyes, the love and care she could never forget, were the only reasons she had not left, the only reasons she was still alive. I remember one night, she told me about the time she broke. The time she stood at the top of that small bridge, concrete below; the time she was ready to leave. But the thought of her mother came to mind. The thought of her love, and how devastated she would be. The thought of leaving her sister and father alone, to help themselves. The thought of her little sister, who, at the time, was scared to sleep alone. The thought of her friends, and her best friends, the thought of the person she might marry, being alone, the thought of the horror on the face of the person that would find her lifeless body. The thought of her dogs, and riding her bike and listening to music, and hanging out with her friends. It would all be over. Those were the things going through her mind. Those, and so much more. Of all the people that would be disappointed in her.. But no one could be more disgusted with her than herself. She told me of the steps she took as she turned away from that bridge. And she told me all the many times she wishes she hadn't. But I, am the only one that knows such things about her.
