There’s a quiet girl in my study hall

Who sits with pen and journal in hand

Writing away almost as if tomorrow were never going to arrive

She has a brave face

And big, beautiful brown eyes

But her eyes are cold and piercing

With the capability to lacerate the skin of whomever she focuses on

Though big and beautiful, they are lackluster and bare no expression

In those eyes, you can see her weariness

A contagious weariness, that made me feel faint just from looking at her

Though she is a closed book, I can read a story just from those eyes

In her story, she climbs up a mountain

A steep and hefty mountain called Life

Lying at the top are her hopes, dreams, and aspirations

With bruised hands and elbows, she has attempted countless times to make it up Life’s peak

But while scratched up her pride remains

She eagerly yearns to finally plant her flag of victory at the summit and cry out to the world, “I made it!”

She desperately longs to inhale the fresh air of triumph and claim what awaits her

But every time she tries to climb, she skids right back down

Life consistently hurls boulders of all shapes and sizes at her

Bit by bit her pride shatters

And any ounce of belief in herself deteriorates

Slowly, she is reaching her wits end

Slowly, she retreats in the opposite direction of her destiny

While she sits in a room full of light, her world is full of darkness

Her optimism is a mere illusion

The word “happiness” is now something she hears of, but cannot recall experiencing

Though the room is packed and there is chatter streaming from every corner

Her silent affliction blares the loudest within the sea of voices

Her own mind has become her enemy

Plaguing her with crippling anxiety that tells her that she will never make it

That things will never get better

That her hopes, dreams, and aspirations will never be achieved

She is being held hostage by the commotion in her mind

Her discouragement invades her heart, now pumping an immense fear rather than blood

Through this clamor, she scribbles away with pen in journal in hand

Still plastering on a brave face

Writing away almost as if tomorrow were never going to arrive

Her journal is her only means of expression

Her journal is all she has to confide in

In it, she details this constant pain

In it, she reveals agony that she has never whispered to a soul

Watching her misery sends chills down my spine

In an attempt to dispel her sorrows, I extend my arms out to her

With a warm embrace, I reassure her that she will make it to the top of this mountain

I reassure her that she does not have to climb Life alone

I tell her not to let her journal be the only thing to hear of her dismay

I remind her she does not need to suffer in her silence

And for a fleeting moment, she smiles a smile that illuminates her face

A single tear slowly streams down her cheek

The smile fades away as she sinks back into her journal

Writing away almost as if tomorrow were never going to arrive