Finally Happy

     A girl walked to school alone, she arrives at school before the bell rings so she doesn't have to be waiting alone. She has her black sweater on when it's almost ninety degrees; it doesn't seem to bother her. A girl with midnight black hair approaches her in the classroom. The girl with the black sweater sees her and puts on a fake smile, but she doesn't seem to notice.
     
     "Rosie, aren't you hot in that?" she asks. Rosie shakes her head no. The other girl sighs and leaves her alone. What no one knows is that the reason she won't take off her sweater is because she has scars. Scars from cutting herself. She is hurting inside and no one seems to notice. Her mask is strong but she's afraid one day, it will break and let her emotions free.
     
     She had depression since she was ten. A ten year old, that couldn't live her childhood to the fullest because her depression was holding her back. She spent most of her time in her room. At first her mother thought it was just a phase she was going through because she just lost her sister due to lung failure. Oh, how wrong she was. It got worst over the months. She would lock herself in her room, only coming out for bathroom and food. She didn't go to school every day. She became less social and talkative.
     
     One day her mother said she was taking her somewhere, as a surprise. Due to her curiosity, she asked where they were going, her mother didn't answer. The day came, when they would be going somewhere. When they arrived at their distention, she became annoyed quickly. Her mother brought her to a therapist. She laughed bitterly and was beginning to think, everyone thought she needed help.
     
     Deep down, she knew she needed help, but she didn't want to admit it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she wanted to be the happy, carefree child she was meant to be. She doesn't say a word in the therapist office, she is asked to leave so her mother and the therapist could talk. When she steps out of the room, she starts to cry. She cries because the therapist brought up the topic about her sister, it's still a painful topic to talk about.
     
     A year passes, she is still the same. She is now going to the therapist her mother wanted her to go to. She starts to write stories about death and murder. Her therapist thinks it's her way of expressing how she feels. Honestly, Rosie didn't know if she could feel anymore.
    
     She is now in seventh grade, she's on medication for her depression and A.D.D. She was homeschooled for maybe five months. No one in her class cared enough to call her to see if she's okay and that hurt her very much. Only one boy called her and came over to see her. That made her somewhat happy.
     
     During winter break, she was very sick, she wouldn't walk and she had a dry mouth. She went to see a doctor maybe five days in her winter break. She wasn't listening and was in her own little land. When she started to focus, she was in an ambulance being rushed to the hospital. There was a woman, telling her to stay awake. She tried to, she really did, but sleep took hold of her.
     
     When she woke up, she was in the hospital on the bed. She soon learned the she was in the I.C.U, intensive care unit, she didn't know what happened. When doctors came in, they said her blood sugar levels were very high; they were 1,700 when they should've been 100-125. She had diabetes, they said. She laughed breathlessly while thinking, what a wonderful Christmas present, right?
     
     She returned from the hospital ten days later. Returned to school a week later and pretend nothing happened. Her mood was better; she doesn't have a bad case of depression anymore. Of course she still misses her sister, but doesn't cry about it every day anymore. The scars on her arm are healing and becoming less noticeable. She is slowly becoming, what people would consider normal.
     
     She is finally happy.