Distant memories.
Carved into her arms, into her skin.
Places that once bled.
Tears of joy as she saw her racer blade stained in crimson red.
She wasn't fine.
She was lonely and she fled.
Someplace somewhere in her own head she was already...
dead.
Life so meaningless, experiences so empty.
Just like the nothingness, bottomless.
Counting the days down.
Cause one day she'll reach the bottom and most likely she'll drown.
