When She was Drowning

I saw her going to her dark corner again today. And I was helpless when she sat down and wept, with her head on her knees. And I couldn’t do anything as she cried without a sound, still worrying that her crying voice might disturb the silence of the night or people who were asleep at that time. She was still considering too much about others even when she knew no one cared enough about her pain and heartache. Inside her head she kept asking herself, “What went wrong?
As new as it seemed, this scene somehow felt familiar for me. I recalled she had been there, many times before. And as she had always done before, she began to blame herself. “Perhaps nothing was really going wrong. Perhaps it was me who was always lacking since the very beginning. Perhaps it was me who could never be good enough.” The night grew deeper, as well as her sadness. And there I was, as I had always been before too, staring blankly without being able to do a thing.
I tried to call her but there was no sound coming out. Like she was, I was too, crumbling apart; drowning in sadness and despair. And from a far, I could barely heard Bareilles’ song being played in her heart:
She’s imperfect but she tries, she is good but she lies
She is hard on herself, she is broken and won’t ask for help
She is messy but she’s kind, she is lonely most of the time
She is all of this mixed up, and baked in a beautiful pie
She is gone but she used to be mine



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