THE WEEK DEBORAH DIED.
Everything was almost perfect, considering that perfection is actually an ideal. But she has a great life, the best of friends, forms of steady income, she kind of loved her life.
Yet, she had spent almost three weeks feeling unfulfilled.. She really shouldn't feel this way being a little above 18 but she did and each time she pushed the thought farther away, maybe she should have faced it head on and told herself how amazing she was but she wasn't that girl.
So, that faithful week, all of her energy left her, she no longer wanted to see friends, help people or participate in academic activities. So she locked the doors and the louvres, stayed home in the dark, crying,writing, remembering all her imperfections and reassuring herself she would never be anything. And oh!!! She stopped eating... She didn't deserve food, she was unworthy even of life.. By the sixth day, she knew what had to be done, she had to leave, this wasn't her first rodeo but this time she would see it through, better to not be here than to be this miserable and useless. A thought nagged at her " how would mother feel?" She had the answer, "she would be sad for a few months, then start living life a little bit normally, and soon the nonexistent hole she'd leave would be filled" see?? No one would miss her much.
And so, on the eighth night, Debbie died.
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