I looked at the mirror and I could see her stare right back at me. I almost couldn't recognize her. She's a bit pale and you can see the bags comfortably settled under her eyes. This buckle in her eyes that could put off evolcano was gone. She smiled at me, traces of pain hidden perfectly behind her smile, hija veils periods that left her eyes. The girl I knew was gone. I remember when she smiles and her eyes glitter as though she holds the gallic and shining brighter than the stars as they envy her. Even when she's not a star. All I could say to her is, I am sorry. I am sorry you had to go through it alone. I am sorry the God was let down and you became the victim. You had to bit up yourself with thoughts. Thoughts that haunted you every single day the moment your eyes opened to the broad daylight and wallow into the pool of tears every night as the stars twinkle in the sky. You had to bottle it up even when it hurts that it breaks you and shatters you from inside. I am sorry you had to hide and look as though everything is rosy. You had to look like a colorful butterfly that dances to the tune of the wind from one flower to the next, everyone you feel like a caterpillar under transition. The pain strikes you like thunder on your off rainy day and lightning flashes a beautiful smile on your face. Thunder screaming excruciatingly inside of you and agony creeping in. Yet when gaze is casted upon you you have your signatures well plastered on your face. Then unknown tell slides down how one shakes falling like a diamond. How sad it is wanting to put all the pain away. Yet your heart and your face sink in different teams. She says to me, don't be sad. I've come out strong and I'm still standing. It's a gratified melancholy.