She was skeptical and cynical and pessimistic, with a habit of pushing people beyond their limits through the overbearing quality of her person. Incredibly mediocre at most things and then very much below average at others, it was hard to find the good in her. She was jealous and mean and lonely and angry all at once, a dangerous concoction if ever there was one. If there was one thing positive to he said about her, it was that she had an innate desire to help and alleviate pain. However, even then there would be some other way she'd find to mess it up. Her wrists were looped with bands and tags, fewer in school and numerous on the holidays, to hide the raw lines where she had tried (in vain) to escape herself, with some twisted effort to stem the flood of complaints streaming from her mouth. She was in the awful habit of over-analysing, searching for the connotations in actions where there were none, and twisting words into drama that was nonexistent to begin with. The grudges she held lasted for years, the bitterness festering inside her and overflowing in a stream of biting words. Where there were those who tried to help, she could not find anything but emptiness to put forward. Perhaps she wanted to show them how truly grateful she was for their company, but I doubt many could see it. I disliked her with an intense passion, and yet I could not free myself of someone so constant in my life.
