Sometimes she doesn’t eat. Sometimes she cries herself to sleep. Sometimes she looks at herself and despises the fact that she’s still alive. And sometimes she rather not be.
But then sometimes she looks at you and everything makes sense. She suddenly has a purpose. She suddenly falls asleep with a smile instead of with tears.
She suddenly goes out of her way to make sure she eats something. She smiles more and worries less. She loves harder than most, but that’s alright.
She cares more than most, but that’s also alright. Everything is alright. But then in the middle of the alright, she becomes too much. She becomes a burdon. But that’s nothing new.
She knows it’s hard to love her. She thinks so too.