she didn't know anymore.
she was realizing that she'd never known any of it in the first place
she had always blindly followed
blissfully ignorant that she was ingesting cyanide
and destroying herself from the inside out.
one too many parallel cuts on her thighs
one too many times situated on the bathroom floor, head in toilet
one too many seizure-like moments of gripping anxiety
one too many lies to save face
"Yeah, I promise, I'm fine."
"I've been doing really well lately."
"It's going great."
"I've never been healthier."
She'd never been sicker.
Sure, she wasn't cutting.
Sure, her weight was healthy.
Sure, everything looked good.
Her heart was breaking.
Her spirit was falling.
Her gut was wrenching.
Her head was exploding.
How do you talk to her?
When will she be able to see?
Where will her rescue come from?
What would you say to me?