There’s a girl I know. I see her most days, but she’s only a ghost of who she once was, and nowhere near who she could be.
She sometimes stares too long, allowing me to notice how puffy her eyes are from crying, even though that was hours ago.
She lost the light in her eyes; the sun no longer shines in their forest green hue.
Tomorrow is her birthday, and all she wants is death.
She needs some focus. She needs to be noticed, but to call attention to herself? That would be insulting, out of nature.
She knows a nice place up in the mountains. She could drive there tomorrow and pray.
She could drive there tomorrow and jump. She could fall. She could get her birthday wish.
The ghost inside her knows she’ll never succeed. Whatever she does, her wish will not come true.
The ones who care will only be there to catch her fall, but drop her when it’s no longer life threatening.
So her birthday is a secret.
There’s a girl I know. She’s a ghost of who she once was.
I’ll tell her you’re listening next time she looks in the mirror.