Dear Daisy

It hurt.

My heart hurt, from finding out that the guy I'd been pining over for the past two years hadn't the slightest attraction to me.

My head hurt, from the crapload of homework I struggled to understand every single night.

My feet hurt, from being forced to keep going, keep moving forward, when all I really wanted to do was end it all for good.

My stomach hurt, from all the horrible things I had to keep from coming out, resisting the urge to scream awful things I'd probably regret saying later.

My back hurt, from bowing over under the weight of all my worries, large or small, and carrying them around with me everywhere and all the time.

Most of all, my hands hurt.

They hurt from holding others close, soothing them and reassuring them, even though no one would do it for me.

They hurt from scrabbling for something to hold onto, a reason to make others feel sorry for me and notice me for once.

They hurt from holding on so tightly to the shards of happiness I still had in my shattered body.