gunshot wound

today i saw a person fall. from the high position she holds in society, the high regard people see her in, the almost always jovial and bubbly young woman she is, she became as distraught and distressed as anyone can possibly be. she fell, down 17 flights of stairs and came tumbling and crashing down, disgraceful and mortified. she cried. she cried and cried up to a point where she felt she couldn't cry anymore. not because she decided to pick herself up, but because she felt too lifeless. she couldn't move. not her hands, not her legs, not her body. all she wanted to do was to lay perfectly still and not move an inch. not even trying to breath. she contemplated attempting suicide. contemplating being the operative word. she pondered what methods would ease her of her pain the best and quickest way. she wondered if anyone will find her, and if they did, if they would care. she saw her life the past year flash in painful transitions before her. each picture a grim reminder of why she's where she is at that very moment. she never wanted to be where she was. she never was happy. the entire year, she was never once happy. only occasionally she receives messages from the people she loves and cares for. and that made her happy for only a fraction of a second that it lasted. she tried to pull through, living like an island. it seemed to work for a while. until everything caught up with her in a hurl of incidents like stones thrown to her face. now she lies broken. will she pick herself up? she always does. but will she do it this time around?


if i came to you crying, what would you do?