Look at her. She’s happy, always laughing, has friends. She’s pretty and looks like the only time she’s cried is when she was a little kid and scraped her knee.
Look at her. She’s the same person, just st night. She’s a crying mess, begging for death, but not having enough courage to bring death to her. She feels alone, like she has no one, and no one will understand. She’s happy, remember? No one realizes she isn’t as happy as she looks. She’s a mess, her hair everywhere, her tears and snot all over her face, not being able to breathe. She looks like she hasn’t stopped crying since she was a little kid and scraped her knee.