Snapshots of priceless moments cover her walls. She thinks back to a time where she didn’t have to fake a smile; it just graced her face so naturally. Back then, life was so worth living. Now she thinks it's more worth it not to. Why pretend to love? Why pretend to laugh? Why pretend to live? She's dead inside. Things in her future she dreams of but her reality is staring her in the face. She'll never be good enough no matter what she does. She'll never measure up to anyone's standards, not even her own. Everything she does is just one disappointment after another. Why keep up this perpetual hurt? Wouldn't the world be a better place without it? And the only way to end it is to end her.