suicidal but a meme idol

let me be your canvas 1/3

My life was mundane. Until I met her. Until she strode into my life with her golden hair and hazel eyes with such fervent passion and soul that not one person could deny her presence. If life was a person, that would be her. She was so bubbly, charismatic, extroverted and compassionate that even when she was trying to be serious she would try to refrain from laughing. But that slowly changed. Her lively aura slowly disintegrated mysteriously. It started off little. Coming to work 5 minutes late. Her lack of care of her appearance through messy hair days, unironed clothes and patchy makeup. It lead to her forgetting things for work like her books and pencil case. Then it came to her forgetting projects and presentations so she would quickly whip one up 15 minutes prior to what should have been done a week ago but you could hardly tell the difference anyway. She would forget lunches, starving herself gradually. She would get distracted by the office window. Gazing out from it for hours undisturbed and not focus on the task at hand. She would fiddle with her pens, drawing and sketching pictures not related to work but where beautiful nonetheless. But what pushed her off the edge that everyone could tell she was off the rails is that her eyes become empty. Once gleaming with joy and hope are but empty cases with a void encasing her. Her beautiful smile faded away into a straight line. Her fresh and beautiful face are but covered in scabs and acne. Most likely due to stress. Her hair once golden is now ombréing into a dirty blonde from the natural golden locks fading away. She was a mess. And nobody knew why. Nobody seemed to ask. They think it's a phase. But not me. Although I'm the delivery boy, I always catch a glimpse of her. Looking out the window and watch the clouds flow by. I would watch her try to work but scrap everything the next day because it wasn't good enough. I would watch her habits. The way she flicks her wrist to draw the perfect line in her art that has no relations or relevance to her work. I know she is paid well, but how could a soul so beautifully and pure become so dark and lonely. People were afraid to ask, so they'd talk about it secretly. I would hear them in their cubicles assuming and discussing about her. Either in spite or curiosity as not even they could answer the mystery of the girl looking out the window. One day after work I walked over to her desk, putting her mail on her task and picking up her rubbish. In that time I glance down out the window. Watching the busy commuters and people walking the streets. I look up to see a gorgeous city. Watching the sunset over the horizon of the city, the lake in front of the towering buildings and forest nearby. Her desk was on the top floor and from there she could see the adventures beyond the mountains pass the city lights. It was peaceful. The tranquillity in the sight was alluring and I guess I kinda understood why she stayed later. I knew she wouldn't have left because she always is the last one to leave the building after me. So she wouldn't miss this for a day. Sometimes I would watch her for a while as she admires the setting sun in the sky. It was beautiful. Until, she started staying later and later and later. Almost till midnight in some cases. She was so mysterious now. It wasn't until today I noticed a room. A room that was locked and I hadn't been aware of it and did not have the key for. I usually have all the keys to each and every room but for some reason, I didn't for this one. Thankfully to the person beforehand, they didn't shut it properly. But I opened it slowly to step inside to the darkened room. I went to look for a light switch on the sides of the door but not one in sight until I saw a glimpse of a shining metal chain hanging from the ceiling. I tiptoe towards it, unable to see my surrounding and pull in it lightly. A burst of light shine and bounces off the wall to find paintings spread all across them. Drawings scattered on the floor and artworks everywhere. I look around to see a MP3 player in the corner of the room with headphones attached to it still. Picking up, I flick it on so the screen pops up. I notice the current song. Give Me Novacaine by Green Day. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. I hold my breath in my throat as a flick through recently played, until I see an alluring title playlist called "To the person who finds this" I press the middle or the vintage device, opening the playlist to find voice memos named with dates of the creation of them. I gulp, scrolling down to the earliest day, Day that things started to change with her actions. 4 months ago. Puzzles, unable to formulate words click on it. At first it was nothing but static, nearly pressing skip. Until I hear a gentle sigh.