She probably could have handled the situation better. She wished she didn't open up so much because it'll only let people in closer. Those that used to surround her always disappointed her, they're let downs but she knew that. She lived and breathed among them -- if anyone knew discontentment, it was her. She knew that none of the things that made her happy will last. Happiness is just a phase. Eventually it will die, and she'll go back to being that manic depressic she was once before. You don't know her.

Regrets fill up her mind. It quickly fills her up like water flowing into a cup. It floods her tear ducts and small drops begin to fall at the edge of her eyes. She weeps to no one. Her loveliness had begin to fade over time, the strain in her heart was begining to show. Soon enough, she'll look like she never was. She hates being this way. She hates being unable to control what is happening around her. Why did everyone else have to look so goddamn happy?

Stay strong. Stay with us.

Stay strong. Stay with us.

Stay with us.

The voices in her head begin to chant. She must stay strong. She reminds herself of words she grew up with: crying is for the weak, tears must never be shown. Oh, she must be very weak. She bites into her arm to slow down the wails coming out of her throat. "Don't listen. Don't listen," she begs quietly to the unopened door. Her tears burn her cheeks, reddning them witm with absolute sadness. Things didn't need to turn out this way.

She needs to find somewhere to get out of this rut but you don't need to save her.

It's already too late.