She had been running away from me for a very long time. Sometimes I found her in the lost desert of depression and sometimes I found her in the skies of sadness. Her home would change very often; at times she would dive in the deep ocean of madness and swim to the edge of confusion.
I have been chasing her ever since I first got to know her, she was beautiful and I couldn’t forget her mesmerizing self. She knew how to carry herself with pride and she was aware of how to make justice for the people she once mistreated. She loved being able to help others and she could manage to oversee her pain by focusing on others.
But I always knew she was struggling. She was in pain, and getting weaker. She often joined in meetings with her old friends, the blade and the suicidal thoughts. They were bad company for her, she never deserved to know them. I had to make sure she didn’t harm herself and I ran to where I lost her the last time.
And there she was… standing in the dark. She had her eyes wide open. At first I couldn’t even see on what she was focusing. I was just so blown away by her. Her face, her features, her expression. She was counting stars. Her eyes were a bit swollen. I think she must’ve been crying for hours.
She looks at me and smiles, because I’m smiling at her. She is the reflection of myself, she is me in this mirror and she is just so vulnerable and I feel sorry for how the world couldn’t save her. I feel bad for the days she spent lost in her own, and how everything brought her down and how she let everyone down.
She seemed to me like a hopeless and homeless girl that lives under a shed with a million possibilities but chooses to ignore them because she just doesn’t believe in herself anymore. Her self-esteem is decreased to the maximum amount and she has no one but herself in this lonely starry night.
She is biting her lips, just like she does always, when she is nervous or scared. And she has nothing to say. Then my eyes shine up and I tell her :
“Count stars instead of scars.”
She looks at me and laughs, she looks down at the scarred arms and legs and looks at me again. But she isn’t properly looking at me, she is looking higher, in the sky. She looks at the stars and laughs again.
She looks happy. Just like a little girl. It’s not what I said that made her laugh, but the fact that her reflection, that I, finally came to her and encouraged her. She was waiting for me all along. She only needed my support, no one else’s.