She lies awake at two am questioning her place in the world. She's always been the girl who cares so deeply for everyone around her. She had a habit of giving her heart out to all the wrong people and being torn so low she could never see her worth. Everyone always told her she wasn't pretty enough, she wasn't skinny enough, she wasn't good enough. So she tried to make herself pretty, she covered her face in makeup and did her hair the way people said would look good on her. Then she started to try and loose weight to be skinny enough, she would start skipping meals and making herself sick when she did eat because she felt disgusted with herself for even taking a bite. Then she started to be the person she thought everyone wanted her to be. But in that process she just started to hate herself even more. Nothing she did was enough for those she cared about. Everyone slowly started to disappear from her life. They started to replace her with people that where in her eyes prettier,Skinner and better than her. She started to get into a lot of bad habits that she promised her mom and dad she would never do. She turned to alcohol to drown her sorrows. When that didn't help anymore she turned to smoking pot, and from there everything went spiraling downwards. She couldn't recognize the girl looking at her in the mirror. She couldn't even look at herself. Then everything came crashing down around her. Her only support overdosed on heroin. Her best friend,her first love, was gone and she lost it. Granted he was the one who introduced her to her new best friend her blade but she was thankful for that cause if he hadn't she didn't know how she would be able to handle the demons in her head. Every day that passes she just wants to give up more and more. She wished she could erase herself from existence but she doesn't have the strength in herself to end her life. So she just cried and empties another bottle of vodka into her throat. She smokes another blunt and is tempted to pull her trusty friend out of it's hiding spot and let the blood pour from her wrist again. But she doesn't want to be questioned in the morning about long sleeves and baggy hoodies. They already question the fact that she won't eat around anyone else. They already think she's insane. Why should she prove them right?
