there was a girl,

ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀs ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ.

she woke up.

tears stained her cheeks,

and blankets stuck to her like glue

as she got up and dressed herself

in a jaded daze.

she was exhausted,

annoyed,

of the same old things.

of waking up, going to school

and crying herself to sleep.

she walked down the halls.

eyelids twitching,

lungs lagging,

as her body danced in the empty

that engulfed her being.

she felt weary of trying

to accomplish what everyone wanted.

everyone wanted to make something of themselves,

but she was constantly irked by people who tried too hard

and by the people who tried too little.

so she went home.

she went home, and gave up.

she gave up on her dreams,

gave up on her future,

and gave up on herself.

she drained herself completely

of the person she was and for the first time

became the person she wanted to be.

no one.

so she grabbed a knife with a slow,

sleepy motion,

she headed upstairs to the bathroom

and decorated her skin with slashes of blood.

she took her stale,

distressed, body and let it soak

in the crisp, frosty, water.

she allowed the crimson claret that pumped in her veins

to pour out in an enervated tempo.

it invaded the luminous water and

created a whirlwind of tattered liquid.

and for the last time she cried herself to sleep,

no longer feeling captive of the intense emotions that foiled her brain.

once upon a time, there was a girl who was tired.