She does feel alone. There's no denying that. There are so many people around who are willing to help, but she feels no one could ever truly understand. So many things go on inside her mind. When she talks to you she can’t sit still. She’s always fiddling with one thing or another. Her eyes are jail cells, full yet lifeless, bright by full of sorrow. She holds everything in. She doesn’t want to be called weak, doesn’t want to stop smiling. But when she is alone, truly alone, there’s no reason to pretend.
The smile drops, her voice fades, and the tears grow legs and run down her cheeks. I’ve seen what she hides and I wonder how she does it. These things mightn’t seem much to most, but to her they’re her whole world. She tries. She really does. And she doesn’t give into the demons. She’s good in that way.
Some days are easier than others. They’re not all cloudy. Sometimes the sun can shine through the clouds and make the smile genuine. And believe me, that smile is the most goddamned gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. Her eyes turn from grey to green and her lips part to show the perfect teeth she hides. And to think, it’s so hard for her to smile. And when she tells me I’m the one. That’s the time I know the smile is genuine. When her eyes are brighter than the stars and her hands lock around my neck and she leans in to kiss me. She makes me smile in turn and I love her for it.
And she asks me why I stay, how I put up with her. I could never understand how she thought of herself as a thing to be put up with. I tell her how lucky I am to be with her, how much she makes me smile, she's the only one that makes me feel worth it. I take her hand in mine, her small palms pressed against my calloused ones, I look into her eyes and tell her she is perfect.
