Secrets and lies, simply secrets and lies. The two sins go together, and need each other to survive. You can?t hold onto a secret without covering it in lies, and you can?t tell lies without basing them off secrets. It seems lately the two have bound and gagged her; they are strangling her with each passing day. Slowly they are increasing, and taking over what little control she posses over her life. She is blinded for it is dark, and deaf for it is quiet. But that is just how it?s always been in her mind, with all the unexplored territory. Fear blocks the entrance, courage seals the exit. She is trapped, cornered by her thoughts, stumbling around, falling down, searching for the way out.

She lies to her family, and about her family, to cover the flaws and to overrule the truth. She lies to her friends, to camouflage her demons, to stop the inevitable concern they feel. And she lies to herself, so she can keep moving forward with this hell she has placed herself in.

She lives as an outsider, trapped inside. She is hated by many, and unfortunately loved by much. Who she is, is controversial. No one knows or understands what goes on in her life, in her mind. Though this is her own fault. Where she is, is a result of her own actions. She has exiled herself.

These secrets are destructive not only to her, but to those who she surrounds herself with. She is bitter for them, for her friends and family, the last thing she wants is to see them hurt, to worry them, or allow them to share her encumbers. Each tear anyone cries for her, can be counted on her wrist, in ounces diminishing from the fifth, or the pills absence from their bottle.

She won?t talk about herself; she doesn?t want her issues known. So she tries to ignore her life, what is happening before her, what is uncontrollable, what cannot be stopped, for she has attempted so often. She takes on the problems of everyone else, she rides the emotional rollercoaster. She allows herself to be hurt, ripped apart at the seams over and over again, each time it kills a little part of her heart.

The poor girl is hollowing out on the inside, but it is her fault. She is the one who is allowing this, she could say no. She could give up, but she is the hero to so many little girls. This is just as messed up as it sounds. The blind is leading the blind; the mentally unstable is giving advice and guidance. This is the recipe for such a beautiful disaster. She will derail herself, because everyone knows she can?t handle the pressure, the newfound stress. She is just an object, a pawn of fate. Her life is playing out, and everyone seems to be enjoying such a tragic show.