I swear she tried, she tried to dry her tears, she tried to stop it from flowing to her cheeks, she tried to stop her tears from wetting the pages she writes on, she tried to write happy stories and to think happy thoughts and to anticipate a happy future that may or may not await her. Yet she still couldn’t help but cry each night. Can you hear her sobbing at night when the world is asleep and at peace? She writes the saddest stories, but even the saddest of the saddest stories she had written couldn’t compare to how her heart is breaking right now, in real life.
And I swear she tried her best to rewrite this story, her story, but her tears had already smudged her words, clouded her vision, ruined her hope.