Getting Better

     "Why don't you go away?" a girl mumbled to herself while looking down at her left arm. Her arm has scars, scars from cutting herself with a blade from a sharpener. She regrets cutting her arm, she regrets it so much. Only her mother, brother and best friend knew what the scares were from. Everyone else thought her cat did it. She's afraid of being questioned about the scars and someone seeing threw her lies.

     She runs from her room to the kitchen where her pills are waiting for her. She grabs the two blue pills off the table and swallows them. One is for her depression while the other one is for her A.D.D. Her depression is getting better after three years. Doctors say her depression started because her sister passed, but she couldn't help it. Her sister was her best friend and going on without her was hard. Before she had her pills, she had a mask. A mask of happiness, no one could break or see behind. The mask she had on, no one suspected a girl with depression behind it. Just a happy girl with no worries or fears.
     
     People think she's strong and fearless, but she's so scared. Scared of being alone, being judged, being yelled at and so many more. There are times where she wants to cry or laugh for no reason. Sometimes she wants to scream and yell. She doesn't know why but she does. She doesn't understand but she tires.
     
     She doesn't have nightmares anymore. Her suicidal thoughts don't happen as much anymore. She hasn't cried for no reason in a while. She hasn't cut herself in forever. She's getting better. She's getting better slowly but she's getting better.