Warning: Heavy subject here. Deals with self-harm and suicide. Read at own risk.

No one talks to her she feels so alone.

It was always the same. Everyone just goes about their daily lives. Not one person even realizes what's going on. She's tried to get their attention but it falls on deaf ears. It's all too much. The isolation feels unbearable.

She's in too much pain to survive on her own.

The pain weighs heavily on her heart. She doesn't believe she'll make it. It's only a matter of time before she falls under the pressure. She wants them to know, but the shame that would follow made it hard to do so. She isn't supposed to be like this. Someone like her can't be like this.

The hurt she can't handle overflows to a knife. She writes on her arm wants to give up her life.

It hurts every time she does it. The blade glides over her skin. She makes sure the marks are not visible. If someone saw what she was doing to herself, would she want them to stop her? Would she want them to know? It would be so much easier to just end it all.

Each day that goes on is a day that she's brave. Fighting the lie that giving up is the way. Each moment of courage her own life she saves when she throws the pills out, a hero is made.

She gave up the blade, too messy, for pills. She'd swallow them all and it would be done. She stares at the bottle, but she couldn't open it. She's too scared to do it. Even after getting almost caught last time by her best friend. The scars from previous cuts were visible now and her friend showed not shame, but sympathy.

"It takes a brave person to keep living. To keep fighting."

She was grateful for those words. At first, she dismissed them but looking at the bottle now she knew her friend was right. She had to be brave so she threw the pills out. She looked at herself, on the outside she appeared fine except for the marks on the hidden places under her clothes but she knew she was broken inside. Her friend's words echoed in her mind.

"Please, get help Rose."