It was the heaviness in her chest.
It was the broken fragments in her heart.
It was the loneliness that slowly ate her away.
She never showed up to class.
She cut her hair.
She changed to feel right.
But it never was.
Maybe it was nonstop thoughts bringing her down.
Maybe it was the tears than meant nothing to anybody else.
Maybe it was pills in her hand.
How could they not see anything?
The tears stains on her pillow? The smeared makeup?
The constant "I'm fine's" that don't mean anything? The quiet responses?
But how could she trust anyone when she couldn't even trust herself?
But how can she fix someone when she was so broken?
But how can she tell everyone when her own words hurt her more than anything?
She didn't hate the homework, her bullies, or even her hurt more than she hated herself.
She didn't want to be sad forever.
She didn't want to face the room full of judging people and rumors.
She didn't want to fight her invisible battles.
They said she was asking for it by what she was wearing.
They said she was faking it for attention.
They said she was just overdramatic and that she would get over it.
Does the hurt in her eyes not mean anything to you?
Does her breaking heart mean anything?
Her shaking hands? Her withdrawal? Her broken dreams?
Couldn't you just see it?
They just choose not to.
And all the girl wanted was acknowledgment.
Someone to say "You are not okay."
Someone to say "Let me fix you."
Someone to say "I know."
She never got it.