I’m angry at her friends who miss it.
She smiles, she laughs, she’s full of life but if they took the time to look a bit closer or hang around for an extra second, they would see the laugh turn into a silent sob, the smile give in to a despair she’s used to.
She’s not a good pretender, her friends just don’t see.
They ask;
“How are you?”
“How are you doing?”
“How’s life?”
But few hang around for the answer.
Most of her friends would be horrified by how she chooses to cope, if they knew, they would judge her.
She attends Bible study and on the way home she calls her dealer to pick up her weekly stash of weed.
She’s dead inside.

