Musings of the Smart Girl with Pink Hair and High Heels (Secrets)

She has a secret.
Her day begins. She dresses in her best and applies the makeup. She smiles at the reflection in the mirror and practices her acting skills.

People call her outgoing. They are attracted to her sweet attitude like hummingbirds to sugar-water. They buzz around her feeding off of her overflowing positive energy. Entranced, they can’t get enough of her.

She smiles constantly and her joy bubbles outward. Craving the attention, she keeps the conversation tumbling from topic to topic. All eyes are on her and she flourishes under the spotlight.

Little does everyone know, this is all an act.

At night, she takes her carefully crafted mask off and peers into the eyes in the mirror. A sheen of sorrow glistens in those depths and she can’t stop the overpowering emotions swarming her. Unable to block the flood, her mind begins to throb.

Feeling as if her head will burst, she picks up the razor. The metal gleams in the dim light. She slowly presses its hungry teeth against her scared skin. She presses down. A single trickle of blood drips. The cut widens. She thinks she feels release.

Can anyone save her from the pain she hides? Can no one see through her mask without her having to hint that something isn’t right? Can someone not see through her poor acting job?

Are we all so wrapped up in ourselves that we don’t see the obvious depression eating away at this poor creature? Will no one try to save her? Will no one lend her the hand she has been waiting for to pull her out of this hole? Can she be rescued before it is too late?