I looked at my own reflection in the glass beside me. It was awful. I looked awful and I felt awful. How can I be this alive yet I feel like I died a million times? I haven't seen myself like this, just this time, the scars and the dark days will finally, fully reflect on my physical appearance. I wasn't dead, I was just pale and cold. I looked at my curtain as it was gently swayed by the cold wind. Is it a winter breeze? Or did I just feel the cold-hearted soul I had finally released its cold? How can I walk this far if my feet can barely take the journey I had when I am still everybody's sunshine? How can I be this miserable if they said that I was born with a light? How can that be possible?
I walked to my window to lock it, the wind was getting colder and I felt like my body would sta
