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Her parents, distant as ever, don’t notice.  They’re caught up in their own lives, their own struggles, their own disconnection.  They don’t ask about her health anymore; they don’t wonder if she’s okay.  If she’s honest with herself, she doesn’t think they ever really did.  They didn’t know how to love her in the way she needed, in the way that would make the broken pieces inside her fit together.  They didn’t know how to love themselves either.  Perhaps that’s why they were never able to teach her.  They were just as lost as she. 
She tries to reach out sometimes, but it always feels like a waste of breath, like speaking to a wall that doesn’t even acknowledge her voice.  She craves connection, craves understanding, but every time she opens up, she feels the distance between her and everyone else widen.  Her trust is a fragile thing, splintered into pieces so small that it’s hard to see the whole picture anymore.  She wants to trust, wants to believe that someone will catch her when she falls, but the ground beneath her feet always feels too shaky, too unpredictable.
So she keeps going, keeps pretending, keeps hiding the things she can’t say.  She doesn’t know how to fix what’s wrong with her, and maybe that’s the scariest part.  She doesn’t know if there’s a way back from this place of emptiness, this place of constant searching for something that feels like home.  But maybe she’s not supposed to have the answers right now.  She’s not supposed to know what’s next.  The only thing she can do is survive. She survives because what else can she do?  Each day feels like a fight to keep her head above the water, but somehow, she manages.  It’s not graceful, it’s not pretty, but it’s enough.  That’s all she can ask for,  just enough to make it to tomorrow.  The thought of tomorrow, though, is a double-edged sword.  Some days, the future feels like an endless vacuum, stretching on forever, full of nothing but the same pain, the same loneliness.  Other days, it’s a faint flicker of expectancy, the idea that maybe things could change, maybe she could find a way to feel whole again.  The days don’t stay the same for long.  The flicker fades, and she’s left in the dark again.
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