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Description
She hated herself, but when she looked up at the moon she remembered a song she'd heard, that God makes no mistakes. She smiled sadly and looked down.

She knew the truth. She didn't hate herself because of how she was born, she had come to hate who she had made herself. She had turned herself into a loud, snarky, annoying, whiny, and hateful girl.

Her family loved her, and she knew, every day that she fought with them, she knew it was because she was trying to make them back away. She hated the idea of anyone getting close to her. She closes her eyes at night and imagines the ways she could die, that as every year passes she's a second closer and closer to her end. She wanted to be free, change herself, and be able to die without hurting anyone.

She hates the misunderstandings. "I hate myself," she'd confirm, but think in the back of her mind, "but I don't want to die". She wants to live, to be wild and free. She wants back the years she lost alone on the computer, her eyes sore and tired. She chose it, but she tried to place the blame on others. She refused to go into a crowd again after she had been shamed one time too many. She hid her face, happy behind the screen of the computer where no one could judge her. Yet, as that went down the same road even there, she curled in on herself and whispered to herself what she'd done wrong.

She's to blame, solely her. People had lied, but she had fallen for the lies. People pushed her, and she didn't resist. She battled herself as much as she battled others, and came to the conclusion she couldn't win both fights. The world is what it is, but she can change herself, she can come back from where she's fallen. But the ground is like glass, and every step crackles underneath her, and she finds herself wobbling, holding back tears. The silence is worse than the screams, but screaming made her curl in. The glass shifting under her feet was the sound she loved the most, and when she realized that she knew she was losing every battle she'd ever taken on.

You're brave. You're strong. You're smart. You can do anything you want to do, and be anyone you want to be!

Not all people had hurt her, had stabbed her, and it was those people she feared the most. They saw so much in the girl that stood before them, but they couldn't see when she was sick to her stomach. What if she didn't meet their expectations? What her mother couldn't complete, should she take on like she so often encouraged? She liked the idea of the job, but it was a damning sentence. She was wild and free! She wanted every day to be different and new! Would she make her mother frown? She'd been told before she had disappointed her many times already, but maybe, just maybe, she had only ever said it in anger. She always came back around to embrace her and comfort her when she had nightmares that shook her to her core.

She was disappointing them behind their backs every day. She'd write to herself, tell herself how much she hated what she had become. She had once held a knife over her wrist, felt the cool, soothing touch of the metal, but she feared hurting her family too deeply.
She could say only one thing proudly: She'd never cut.
She hated when she cried, when she would hide in a dark room, but she would find other ways to punish herself. She'd instigate a fight to be grounded or to be refused something, and she would smile at herself when she turned away. She couldn't hurt herself, for their sake. At times she had considered the scientific reality, that the wounds and pain would take her mind off her mental pain and focus on her bleeding wounds, but she'd never been able to reason it enough. She could always see the way her family would cry, how sad and disappointed in her they'd be. Her freedom as well would slip through her fingers. How could she be trusted alone if she'd done something like that? They wouldn't understand that she didn't want to die, but that she did want to suffer for what she had done.

Only seventeen, she stares up at the moon and prays for help. Give her strength, give her faith and courage - give her the strength to get out of bed each day with something awaiting her. She'd limited herself since for over seven years, living in the world of games and computers, but she didn't want that anymore. She wanted a reason that she could feel to get up. Just out of reach stood a boy who'd admitted his affection, but she can only look at herself and think "he must be blind to think I'm beautiful", and she'd turn away with a fierce blush. She was disappointing him, never even giving him a chance. Her best friend awaited her call every day, but she was always so busy with worthless games. She was wasting her own time and she knew it, but changing her ways after so long was a task that made her hide. The things that weren't straight-forward were the things she clung to, so to do some as simple as make a call and keep in contact scared her, kept her up at night. Everyone she knew tried to be her friend, as many as the world can offer to one person at least, but she tried to keep them away. She was told she did a good job of scaring people with a glare she didn't know she held. It made her feel proud, which made her self-hate even stronger. The sin of pride was twisted for her. Pride wasn't that she was happy with who she really was and what she could do, but the things she did to hide her capabilities. She loved to not promote herself, but demote herself.

Out on the porch, she watches the moon and wonders when this will all be defeated. She wonders if she's as strong as they say, and if she is, if it will be enough to climb back to the surface. Could she live the free life she wanted? She had kept herself inside and out of sight for so long - she was fighting even the simplest desire to do her own daily habits, in fear she'd screw up.

Show faith, show courage. Show faith, show courage."
She clutched the dragon emblem, courage etched on it in Chinese. She was sitting in the car one night and looked out at the darkening sky, and she felt fear. She whispered those words to herself. Maybe that was the key.
Maybe, just maybe, she could dig deep enough to stand tall enough to make herself smile for doing something right.

Description
She hated herself, but when she looked up at the moon she remembered a song she'd heard, that God makes no mistakes. She smiled sadly and looked down.

She knew the truth. She didn't hate herself because of how she was born, she had come to hate who she had made herself. She had turned herself into a loud, snarky, annoying, whiny, and hateful girl.

Her family loved her, and she knew, every day that she fought with them, she knew it was because she was trying to make them back away. She hated the idea of anyone getting close to her. She closes her eyes at night and imagines the ways she could die, that as every year passes she's a second closer and closer to her end. She wanted to be free, change herself, and be able to die without hurting anyone.

She hates the misunderstandings. "I hate myself," she'd confirm, but think in the back of her mind, "but I don't want to die". She wants to live, to be wild and free. She wants back the years she lost alone on the computer, her eyes sore and tired. She chose it, but she tried to place the blame on others. She refused to go into a crowd again after she had been shamed one time too many. She hid her face, happy behind the screen of the computer where no one could judge her. Yet, as that went down the same road even there, she curled in on herself and whispered to herself what she'd done wrong.

She's to blame, solely her. People had lied, but she had fallen for the lies. People pushed her, and she didn't resist. She battled herself as much as she battled others, and came to the conclusion she couldn't win both fights. The world is what it is, but she can change herself, she can come back from where she's fallen. But the ground is like glass, and every step crackles underneath her, and she finds herself wobbling, holding back tears. The silence is worse than the screams, but screaming made her curl in. The glass shifting under her feet was the sound she loved the most, and when she realized that she knew she was losing every battle she'd ever taken on.

You're brave. You're strong. You're smart. You can do anything you want to do, and be anyone you want to be!

Not all people had hurt her, had stabbed her, and it was those people she feared the most. They saw so much in the girl that stood before them, but they couldn't see when she was sick to her stomach. What if she didn't meet their expectations? What her mother couldn't complete, should she take on like she so often encouraged? She liked the idea of the job, but it was a damning sentence. She was wild and free! She wanted every day to be different and new! Would she make her mother frown? She'd been told before she had disappointed her many times already, but maybe, just maybe, she had only ever said it in anger. She always came back around to embrace her and comfort her when she had nightmares that shook her to her core.

She was disappointing them behind their backs every day. She'd write to herself, tell herself how much she hated what she had become. She had once held a knife over her wrist, felt the cool, soothing touch of the metal, but she feared hurting her family too deeply.
She could say only one thing proudly: She'd never cut.
She hated when she cried, when she would hide in a dark room, but she would find other ways to punish herself. She'd instigate a fight to be grounded or to be refused something, and she would smile at herself when she turned away. She couldn't hurt herself, for their sake. At times she had considered the scientific reality, that the wounds and pain would take her mind off her mental pain and focus on her bleeding wounds, but she'd never been able to reason it enough. She could always see the way her family would cry, how sad and disappointed in her they'd be. Her freedom as well would slip through her fingers. How could she be trusted alone if she'd done something like that? They wouldn't understand that she didn't want to die, but that she did want to suffer for what she had done.

Only seventeen, she stares up at the moon and prays for help. Give her strength, give her faith and courage - give her the strength to get out of bed each day with something awaiting her. She'd limited herself since for over seven years, living in the world of games and computers, but she didn't want that anymore. She wanted a reason that she could feel to get up. Just out of reach stood a boy who'd admitted his affection, but she can only look at herself and think "he must be blind to think I'm beautiful", and she'd turn away with a fierce blush. She was disappointing him, never even giving him a chance. Her best friend awaited her call every day, but she was always so busy with worthless games. She was wasting her own time and she knew it, but changing her ways after so long was a task that made her hide. The things that weren't straight-forward were the things she clung to, so to do some as simple as make a call and keep in contact scared her, kept her up at night. Everyone she knew tried to be her friend, as many as the world can offer to one person at least, but she tried to keep them away. She was told she did a good job of scaring people with a glare she didn't know she held. It made her feel proud, which made her self-hate even stronger. The sin of pride was twisted for her. Pride wasn't that she was happy with who she really was and what she could do, but the things she did to hide her capabilities. She loved to not promote herself, but demote herself.

Out on the porch, she watches the moon and wonders when this will all be defeated. She wonders if she's as strong as they say, and if she is, if it will be enough to climb back to the surface. Could she live the free life she wanted? She had kept herself inside and out of sight for so long - she was fighting even the simplest desire to do her own daily habits, in fear she'd screw up.

Show faith, show courage. Show faith, show courage."
She clutched the dragon emblem, courage etched on it in Chinese. She was sitting in the car one night and looked out at the darkening sky, and she felt fear. She whispered those words to herself. Maybe that was the key.
Maybe, just maybe, she could dig deep enough to stand tall enough to make herself smile for doing something right.