A A R O N
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I worried for her; for how she'd coped this past year on her own in the city.
But what I'd realised, after reading her notebook, was that you can't fix a person no matter how badly you want to. The change has to come from them.
The only person that can be your anchor is yourself.
She wrote about anchors a lot. Anchors, and crowns. Collars, and thrones. The notebook was a manifestation of her crumbling mind. And maybe teenagers aren't supposed to be in such dark places, and maybe it's difficult to believe that a girl who supposedly had everything - money, friends, grades - could have been so filled with sadness, but it happens.
And the money and the friends and the grades couldn't help her.
Maybe that is why so many people suffer in silence. Because no one takes you seriously, when you have everything.
I am not good at expressing my ideas.
But while reading that notebook, the one word that kept returning to me was anguish.
And now I see less of it in her eyes.
YOU ARE READING
green light
Short StoryOn depression, and recovery. ❝Perhaps this is our kingdom, perhaps our crowns are the green specks of light that fall into our hair. And perhaps this is our fantasy, and perhaps we have no crowns but collars, collars that bind us to our differences...
