There once was a girl. She was young, and she was shy. She was afraid of everyone and everything. She thought through any possible situation before anything could happen and knew of the possibilities. Yes, she had been hurt by a few people. But she was a young girl, and other than the absence of a father every now and then, the world had really never hurt her. I will never know why she was so scared. She couldn’t even speak to adults. Every one of them was terrifying. When other kids in the class did their presentations, she got out of it because she couldn’t speak in front of the class. Then, she found out she was smart. People had told her. And she realized that she knew more than the other kids. And one day, she found out she was pretty. These people helped build her confidence. Which is a good thing of course for anyone. Until that is, it goes to their head. And then, she began to believe and trust anyone who would say these things about her. As she got older she trusted the wrong people again and again. And she got hurt multiple times by multiple people. Yes, some were guys who used her. And that may have hurt more than anything else. But trusting a friend and getting hurt isn’t easy either. So I don’t know what happened to the sweet innocent girl that was so shy she couldn’t even talk loudly, but she disappeared and no longer exists. I know that the girl still wonders what happened to her. She wants to know where that version of herself went. She’s still scared, and she’s still too full of emotions. But those things that happened to her, they don’t mean anything compared to what she’s done. That’s how it started. Always being paranoid. Something bad actually happened. She changed from who she used to be. She did things and hurt other people. Now every time she’s alone all she can think about is how many people she has let down, how many people have been hurt the same ways she has, how many people have been handed back luck, all the things that she has to do, all the potential the smart and pretty girl had, every good thing she’s ever thrown away, everyone who has lost hope in her, whether or not they’re right, and her future. Then there’s the school work to think about. The friends that slowly faded away because she stopped hanging out with them or texting them back. The dog beside her who is asleep but really needs a walk. The good people in her life who cared but she pushed away. But she can’t forget about all her hopes and dreams. Whatever they are because she hasn’t figured it out yet. And that’s it. It’s like everything is on a piece of paper floating around in her room. Everything to think about, everyone and everything. Everyday-future, past and present. And she reaches her hand out, she tries to grab one piece of paper. One thing to think about. She can’t keep trying to think about it all at once. And as she tries to grab that one thought, all the pieces of paper start to spin around her, forever getting closer and closer until they are suffocating her. And it hurts. Physically. She can feel the pain. And just wants it to stop. That’s depression.