I read the story.


I read the story.
You tore up the pages.

Like opening a picture book but not seeing the picture.
Like reading the newspaper and flicking straight to sports, because you can't handle what's really going on in the world.
In your world.
Her.
She is your world
She is your world
She. Is. YOUR. world.
Yet YOU don't know what's going on in your world because you didn't read the pages.
You liked the look of the cover, so you got the book.
But you didn't read the story.
Her story.

You couldn't handle her story
so you flicked straight to sports.
You opened the picture book,
but you didn't. See. The picture.

I did.

I read all the pages
Front, back, upside-down and sideways.
It was so beautiful.
The ups, the downs
The cracks, the flaws
The twists, the turns
It was beautiful.

You tore up the pages.
I put them back together.
I read the story.

Do you know that she leaves tears welling in her eyes
Stinging,
Hurting her even more
Just so people don't see that she's crying?
Do you know that she shuts everybody out and would rather be alone with her problems
Just so her problems wouldn't become someone else's?
Do you know why her anxiety almost kills her every single time that she's alone?
Do you know how to make her smile when she's at her lowest?
Do you know how to make her laugh until she snorts
And then laugh because she snorted
And then snort because she laughed.
Do you know what keeps her up at night?
Do you know what helps her sleep so peacefully, so beautifully that you'd think an angel got lost and found its way into your bed?
I do.
I saw the picture.
I didn't skip to sports.
I picked up the pieces.
I put them back together
I read the story.
And you know what?
it's my favourite story.
I read it every night before I go to sleep
And I pray that it's still there when I wake up.

You tore up the pages.
I read the story.

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