Do you see the girl with only two emotions? She’s happy one minute, then sad the next. People don’t understand her, they call her a freak, say she’s hard to stay friends with, and they give up. Do they know she can be angry, that she can feel pain, jealousy, do they know her? Of course they don’t. Who wants to give the weird girl a chance? No one can keep up with her, so why try?

Maybe she wants you to try; maybe she wants the chances no one will give her. Nobody has ever asked her how she was feeling. They only saw the two sides of her, she wants to talk, to share her feelings but she has no one to open up to. She can’t help it; it’s called a disorder, but she feels that it’s a disease. It’s a disease that consumes her, takes all the light she sees and extinguishes it. The pills bring the light back, but they don’t take away all the pain. She makes the pain physical when she can’t handle it emotionally. It’s a cry for help. She knows people can see physical scars and she wants them to notice. Is it for attention? Yes, the scars on her wrist are for attention, but she hopes to draw attention that can bring her help. People don’t know that, they see the scars and shy away. “Emo,” desperate, pathetic, she’s been called them all. Words don’t affect her anymore; she’s grown use to it, adapted.
The stigmas are out there, and no one looks around them. Everyone knows she’s in pain, everyone knows she’s looking for a helping hand. In a world where everyone focuses on themselves, they see others in pain, but they don’t feel pain themselves. They aren’t hurting, so the person they see isn’t hurting either. They think everyone around them should feel like they feel. People can’t understand that others feel their own feelings; not everyone is the same. You would think in this day and age we would understand that concept, but sometimes we miss the obvious. We look for such complex answers when a simple gesture could change everything. The girl with two emotions doesn’t need a team of doctors asking her how she is feeling; she needs a normal person, someone with no medical background. She doesn’t need a team she needs a teammate. Sure doctors help, her family helps, but they’re just doing their job right? That’s how she sees it; they don’t care, they are supposed to say these things, to say “everything will be okay.” She doesn’t need that, she doesn’t want that. Why can’t someone her age, someone from the jungle she calls school ask her how she is? Why can’t someone offer an interest to her feelings? These are the questions she asks us to answer, but the only thing that voices anything is the darkness that clouds her light, and she is extinguished.