Gone.

She’s gone.

She’s dead.

And no one even knows.

Now she’s nothing but a fragment of their imagination.

Everyone sees her.

Everyone smiles at her.

Everyone thinks she’s happy.

But really, on the inside, she’s not there.

She’s been gone for a long time, now.

And all that’s left are the memories that hollowed her out.

Her eyes are emotionless.

Her heart is barely beating.

Her soul is waiting to escape this life, holding on until she gives up.

Her body is bruised and broken, impatiently striving for redemption.

Her mind is numb, distressed, traumatized.

And all that’s left is a black hole, sucking her in, pulling every last inch of her imperfect,

Flawed body toward the end.