Inside the Eyes of a Lonely Girl
She was alone
before she knew what alone meant.
In a house full of people—
she was lonesome.
Even when her mother returned—
she was sent away again.
A broken leg.
A hospital bed.
Nurses who yelled.
She learned early:
don’t cry,
don’t ask,
don’t need.
She saw an angel once—
or maybe she needed to.
She grew up watching other lives
through glass.
Shoes she could never wear.
A body that gave her away.
They laughed.
Of course they did.
She found someone
just as broken.
He said he understood.
She believed him.
That’s how it begins.
She cleaned his chaos.
Ignored her own.
A mother drunk in the corner.
Children no one held.
He became what he came from.
And she stayed.
Because she didn’t know
what leaving looked like.
She married him.
As if there was no other way.
Something grew inside her
before she even understood how.
No one had told her.
No one had ever told her anything.
The pain came.
Too much.
Too familiar.
So she stepped onto the edge
of an eighth-floor balcony
and chose silence.
A nurse pulled her back.
Saved her.
Saved one life.
And left another
to grow up without a mother—
just as she had.
