She feels like the ground beneath her is slipping. She cannot breathe. She thinks that now, she is afraid of being lonely. She is nauseous. She is in a room filled with people, but she can’t hear a thing they say to her. She has a book in her hand, but she can’t read one word. She is listening to music, but she can’t feel the music like she always does. She is afraid. She is just numb. She is not worth it, she says. She wants to just end it all, she says. She thinks she’s now vulnerable, she says. She doesn’t believe in God, but she is praying to the force above to take it all away. She is telling her brother, but his suggestions don’t seem to make sense to her. She wants no love, but she wants someone to hold her. She doesn’t want someone to tell her that it is going to be okay. She doesn’t want anything anymore. She is not worth it, she repeats. She is making grammatical errors that a 7 year old kid would correct. She just wants to cry, but her ego stops her. She is such a drama queen, she feels. She doesn’t want to sink herself in alcohol because she is afraid of it, but sometimes she yearns for it, because maybe it’ll take the pain away, like they say in the books. She says it’s all over her and she can’t move. She can’t tell a thing. She is not worth it, she cries. She knows it is just a phase and she’ll go back to being her old laughing, goofy self. She says that her chest aches, and this ache cannot be truly explained. She knows that all her heart longs to do, is to run away. She also knows that by doing that, she drops it all and will have to start from scratch. She also knows that, if she drops it all this time, it’s the end. She has got goose bumps all over her body. She is cold. She is sinking. She just wants to give up. She knows she doesn’t really want to give up, but that is all she can think about. She knows she can get over this, but right now, she is just letting the emotions sink her. She lets it consume her.