*trigger warning: self-harm
She says she’s sorry, that the though of dying brought her more relief than a promised tomorrow ever did. She says she’s sorry and that she’s going to be fine.
She wasn’t fine.
But you only realized that after she spelt it out in razor lines.
She wasn’t fine when you didn’t catch the tears that fell from her eyes. She wasn’t fine when you said you couldn’t hang out that night. She wasn’t fine when she had one too many drinks and suddenly her world was spinning and you weren’t there to make it stop.
She still might not be fine