Sorry

She spent most of that time thinking about every argument they’d had, wishing she could take that back, wishing she could take back every horrible word she ever had said to him. She prayed that he knew her words had only been spoken in anger and that they had not reflected her true feelings.

She tortured herself for the times she acted selfishly, going out with her friends when she was mad at him instead of staying with him. She chastised herself for walking away from him when she should have hugged him, when she held grudges for days instead of forgiving him. She wanted to take back every moment she knew he had been angry with her and hated her.

Then she would fall into dark deep depression; then finally build up the strength to be positive and to snap out of it for a few days. But the tiniest and simplest thing would trigger off her tears again. This was her routine. It was tiring process and most of the time she couldn’t be bothered battling with her mind. It was far stronger than her body.

Friends and family came and went; sometimes helping her with her tears, and sometimes making her laugh. But even in her laughter there was something missing. She never seemed to be truly happy; she just seemed to be passing time just waiting for something else. She was tired of existing; she wanted to live. But whats the point of living when there is no life in it