No one wanted it for her. They took pity when they saw how broken she was. They tried to pick up the pieces and mend her shattered existence, but nothing worked. Everything that they tried was deemed failure because they just didn't get it. It wasn't understood that she couldn't be fixed by them because they were the ones that who destroyed her. They mutilated her soul, body, and mind. Her pieces cut them, and once the blood from their torn fingers touched her conscious, it contaminated her. They pushed her around, constantly telling her that she wasn't good enough. So she listened to their grotesque whispers and conformed to their wishes. And once she did, in an instant, her body started to break and the approval for her actions began to become suffocating. She was convinced. Her beliefs were now that she was worthless, useless even, and something no one would ever desire to be or love. They patted her on the back, but the pressure of their hands caused her bones to splinter until they snapped and her mind to deteriorate. There was no saving her. Not when her troubles were romanticized and her illness craved by benighted girls who were starting on the same road that they led her down so many years ago. She cried for them because, just like hers, death was almost inevitable. She knew the sickening, twisted whirlpool that they were blindly walking into, she understood all of the seaweed that would entangle them and all of the sharks that would gnaw at their very being. She tried to warn them, but all is lost when there is only one lifeboat and millions to save. Forget the Titanic, and remember those drowning in the sea of Society.