There was once a girl, she started off as a small child – unaware of the world, thinking fairy tales were real. She would be able to climb a tree and not worry about anything except a scraped knee and a few bruises if she fell. She would cry over spilt milk, and that there weren't enough bubbles in her bathtub. She didn't have the fear of the real world, she was only young. But then one day, she grew up, only to realise that wished don't come true, fairy tales aren't real and broken hearts don't heal as quickly as scraped knees. She would then cry over things such as boys, lost friends, broken families, the news on t.v. She only saw the bad, never any good. She let it get to her, the shouting at home, the fights and arguments – although they were never physical, they were still traumatic to her little mind. She would cry into her pillow late at night, and watch her blood drip into the bottom of the shower with each cut. She would get confused about little things, and the paranoia set in about everything as small as – "Is she really my friend?" "Will he leave me soon?" "Do they talk about me behind my back?" All these thoughts would get to her head and drive her insane, until she would lock herself into her room and just sit in the dark. She wouldn't leave for hours , just waiting for it all to end, just waiting for the pain to succumb her and numb her completely, but it would never come, and it made her want to scream, scream out to the world how much pain she was in. No one noticed, and when they did they brushed it off – "It's just a phase!" They would say, and that would make her angry, she would tear up her room in frustration, only to clean it up again. She couldn't walk out in public in fear of judgement, in fear people saw her scars, in fear she would continue to live in this hell. It only got worse, she would get bullied at school, the teachers didn't care. Her parents would put the blame on her about everything, she was never allowed out. She had to make excuses for the cuts on her arms or legs, "It was just the cat." Her boyfriend broke up with her, because his friends didn't like her, and she wasn't popular enough. Her friends all left her because she wasn't worth it and they didn't want to deal with her problems.
She couldn't handle it anymore, but she kept fighting. Each breath was as painful as the last, but she kept fighting. One step at a time, punch, kick, slap, at the life that went so horribly wrong. She doesn't believe she's strong, no way in hell. But she keeps going. She moves schools, finds new friends, gets a new boyfriend, the teachers help her, she doesn't need the razor any more, she needs the help that everyone has given her. She's a fighter, and one day, she woke up and realised, that even though she's still going to have the toughest times and that she won't always be happy, she knows that it will all get better one day. May not be today, may not be tomorrow, but it will one day, and she'll look back and thank herself that she kept marching forward.