She wasn't always like this.
She didn't just stop caring over night.
Her soul didn't run away just because.
She learned that people walked away, so she expected it.
She never asked for help because she was taught that when you ask for help, there is an ulterior motive.
She didn't become scared of the darkness that surrounded the pits of her soul in just a moment.
Those that hurt her, walked away without a single scar. But she wore the many scars of the ones that bruised her.
Some call her a warrior, others call her weak.
She's a girl standing in hell trying to show others that while standing in hell, to not give up. As the enemy is taking her away and the wild are eating the leftovers of her flesh, she will still try to hold the light until her fingers let go.
Inhale. Exhale. One second at a time.
She fell inlove with the Galaxy above her, she got lost in the stars, something bigger than the pain in her heart. She made friends with the dead, she never let go because she knew death was around the corner for anyone. She relied on sensations of her body to guide her because it was like someone had poured antifreeze in the "oil only" part of her brain.
She loved everyone else but herself, because she ran out of ideas that would mend her heart.
She simply gave up...on herself.
