There's this girl. She smiles and laughs and is always ready to help. She has a secret though. It's in her back pocket. A little note written with little letters created by a little pencil on a little paper with little lines that has big meaning but little value. It was her final goodbye. You see, she had a solution. A solution to the loneliness and the pain. It opened with "Hi mom, hi dad" and ended with "I love you, but I don't love myself. Bye mom, bye dad" her solution was simple but took tons of stubbornness. No one knew. The only one that maybe saw it was her ex. He said his love had EXpired and that his feelings were one of his less EXpert happenings, so he EXited her life. She was left to pick up the peices. All. Alone. That's when her little note was written and folded into a little square and slipped into her little back pocket. Why? Her little heart was broken. Shattered. The one person she thought she had, left. Her friends tried, but no one could break through the wall put up to keep the wind from scattering the peices even more. She would wake up every morning, perk up, slap on a smile, slip her little solution into her little back pocket, trudge through the doors and to school, get through the day, come home, peel off the smile, and break down. One person saw through her struggle. One person noticed her silenced and bowed head. One person bothered to mutter to her "Are you okay?" One person. One. He saw. The one she had truly loved. Not her ex. But him. The one she had always wanted to love. Love and be loved. That's what she wanted. He noticed her tugging her sleeves. Pulling down her tank top. He saw. He muttered. He saved. You see, tucked into the little solution were little blades. To make little scars on her little wrists and large stomach. The little blades cut her little peices of heart into littler shards of shame, misery, and pain, but she didn't care. He did though. He made her promise. He took the little solution out of her little back pocket and the little blades out of her little shaking hands. He whispered that it'll all be okay. He sealed the promise with a long, lingering kiss. One of seven. Seven that would get her through one week of one month of one year of one horrible life. He slowly reeled her back in. He threw her a life vest. One sewed with love in the seams and painted with promised stories of a good life. He would pull the line towards him. Towards the sun and away from the darkness. She finally was close enough to reach out a hand. One small, shaking hand that was so weak and frail. One covered in scars that no one could see. They had healed over. The stories were still there. All of them. This one too. The girl? The one with the thick wall and little back pocket? It's me. I'm the girl. The boy? Well, he's my hero. He gripped my little, shaking hand with his strong, sure hand. He saved me and doesn't know. Doesn't believe. He was there when no one wanted to listen. He stopped me in the hall with mutters and hugs. He slipped my little square out of my little back pocket and tore it. Tore into tiny scraps. Ones smaller than my hastily repaired heart. He let them fly into the air and three little shards caught my eye. Three of my little words put together with little letters on little paper with little lines caught my little eye. Yes, they were jumbled but,they were true. "I. Love. Myself." So thank you superman. Please don't leave me alone to fight off the rest of the darkness. I don't think I would win.
