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The Girl

When she smiles at you, do you feel it? Do you feel that she’s barely hanging on? And when she laughs, so loud, so much, so you feel her trying to get a better grip on the ledge she dangling from?

That girl, so sweet, so lovely, sometimes turns on music and lies on the floor just to stare up at the celling for hours. Nothing sounds worth it. Moving sounds too tiresome. Eating doesn’t feel like a luxury. Reading doesn’t seem to make her go away like it used to.

What pulls her down further, in case you didn’t know, is that no one cares. No one takes time to understand her and really care. No one looks her in the eye and tells her, “You can’t leave me.” No one tells her they wouldn’t be able to stand if she weren’t there.

So when she stares up at that celling, she tries just to breathe steadily. She tries to think of the future she could have, even when the dark spaces loom everywhere else and she’s not sure about that pretty future any more.

And, just so you know, when she leaves in the middle of nowhere to the bathroom, she locks herself in a stall and lets go. Because it gets tiring to keep those strings on her lips pulled up, to force out energy laughing when it’s all you can do to breathe at times.  At most times.

At all times.

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