She was dead. Not literally of course, she was very much "alive" but all the life that was once coursing through her veins is now sucked dry. Each day was just another repeat of the same routine. All in all it was a whole load of pretending. A facade. She was no longer living.
She is dead. The girl you want to be around is gone. She doesn't make the same funny jokes. Instead they are now morbid, and make everyone uncomfortable except herself. Her sense of humor died that same day.
She is dead. Rarely does she crack a true smile. Now she uses the laughs to cover up the sobs. As you tell her your stories that have everything that she had lost, and she nods smiling along. Little do you know she's blocking you out, self destructing from the inside out. Her happiness is all make believe. And every fairytale comes to an end.
She is dead.
YOU ARE READING
Chasing the Sunset
RandomAnd as she drove down the freeway with nothing on her mind but everything in her heart, it felt as if she were chasing the sunset, She didn't care that she would never out run it, she didn't care at all.
