when she was a freshman,
things were harder then they'd ever been.
her days were spent,
trying to figure out,
who she had become.
and she spent all of her time,
in her room by herself,
feeling lost and all alone.
wondering if there was anyone,
as different as she was,
who understood how she felt.
and her dad always worked late,
so her mom rarely cooked dinner.
and she would sit at the table,
eating toaster waffles,
and drinking all her milk
with the cat at her feet, her only company.
and when she was finished,
she would lock herself in the bathroom,
and watch the blood,
as it ran from the cuts that she made on her arm,
and dripped onto the cold tiles.
and she would hide it with a band-aid,
and no one ever asked,
because they didn't want to know.
and when she crawled into her bed at night,
she couldn't fall asleep.
and her mom never said "goodnight",
so she would cry until she couldn't anymore.
and things were harder then they'd ever been.