You'd think she has good life. A straight-A student with a popular group of friends. She had gorgeous black hair that reached right above her shoulders. She had a slim body that most girls would die for. A tiny nose with plump pink lips and cute green eyes; not to mention the eyebrows that framed her face perfectly. Seems like a pretty happy girl; right? You'd be wrong. Then again, you cannot see someones demons. Here anxiety wont leave her alone; she can barely speak to people. Her family? Brother died of suicide. Mother could care less about her. Father is always working. A completely broken household. Her body image? Horrid. She's a bit underweight. Her eyebrows are too bushy and her nose is too big. Her body is ninety percent legs. Her friends make fun of her. Her depression... oh her depression. Her depression causes her to do things she'd never do otherwise. Self harm, under eat, cry herself to sleep every single fucking night praying to a god she doesn't even believes in that she will not wake up. She doesn't wanna get up. This is a story about Micaela. (authors note: this is based on my ongoing struggle with anxiety and depression)

A dark little fucked up scene about the song Nazareth by Sleep Token. This isn't about Vessel, but you can pretend it is if you want. He's probably nicer, though.