I used to only have scars on the outside, from falling down on my knees and hitting the ground with my elbows; from picking scabs because I was too bored to do anything else.

Slowly, though, I formed a new scar. Just one. But it was big enough to hide the whole world.

It grew from the start of a friendship and it didn't stop. The scar grew over my heart, over my chest; it stopped me from feeling, from breathing raggedly. I felt nothing because the scar was now my heart.

A scar is defined as something not healed. This new scar became my broken heart. Broken by nobody but myself. I hid it from anybody I loved because I knew they would get even more hurt because of me. They didn't need that.

It kept growing, soon taking over my head. I didn't talk to anybody unless talked to; I didn't put in any effort to see anyone; I didn't affect anyone in any way. I learned that the best way to stay hidden and not hurt anyone is to hide in plain sight. Just be a passerby walking in the halls.

The scar is still there today, and I don't think it will ever go away. It always haunts me, never letting me forget. So it is just another scar I hide, like all the ones on me that it itself has caused.

"Hello. Um, you don't know who I am yet and that's okay." I bend down onto my knees so I'm looking her straight in the eyes. "You are a beautful, unique girl. Accept the compliments." I place my hands on her shoulders, she backs a bit away, but smiles anyways. "Never stop giving your love. 'Kay? One day, you will have to move far, far away to a whole different kingdom. There will be lots of new experiences so don't feel frightened." I sit on her little bed and lift her onto my lap. "Remember what the Cat in the Hat says? 'It's fun to have fun, but you have to know how.' Never forget to have fun." I tickle her 'till her face is red and she's crying tears. "Stop it!" she laughs. I laugh. We both laugh. I'm not sure what else to tell this younger version of me (she's only in kindergarten), so instead, I just leave off with, "Don't forget what I said," and smile.

When I was little I had dreams. One of my favorites was when I was with Peter Pan. I was with him, Tinker Bell, Wendy, the Darling boys, and the lost boys. We flew over Neverland. We battled pirates and left Captain Hook to the crocodile. We splashed in the water with the mermaids and played pranks on each other. It was like a dream come true.

Eventually, I woke up from the wondrous dream. I hastily threw the covers off me and stood up. I tried to fly. I remembered how. I remembered flying with Peter and Tinker Bell. I remembered battling pirates and playing pranks. It took me half an hour to realize that it all just a dream. To realize that I never flew and that Peter Pan doesn't exist. I never battled pirates and I didn't swim with mermaids.

I guess it was all just wishful thinking. Just like how it's wishful thinking to imagine a world with peace. A world where suicides and depression isn't a thing. A world without racism and sexism.

A lot of things are just wishful thinking.

Hello.

It's me. Your mistake. Your regret.

Why did you begin to fall in love with him? Why did you bring up something in the past about him and you? Why did you think of that night? That awful, awful night. You had begun to truly like someone, and it all started with a hug.

A hug. A hug that made you feel safe and comforted. It made you feel like you two were alone in space, bound to hug forever, like he could protect you. Like he would protect you. As if.

Why did you hate him? You felt hated and moved on. Then a friend stupidly asks a question that made you realize how much one night in the past could hurt you in future. You felt betrayed, even though it was half a year later and he had done nothing like that again.

You moved on, apparently, but now a part of that night will always stay with you, nagging you in the back of your mind. Telling you his words exactly.

You're weak.

You should be meaner, that's why you sit alone.

Maybe in the future you shouldn't hug someone who is taller than you.

Falling apart. What does it mean? Does it mean literally being in pieces and being thrown off a cliff? Or does it mean to feel like that but look fine on the outside? Doesn't it mean to be so torn apart that you're ripping yourself to pieces? That you're so upset, so emotional that you hate yourself and everything?

I have the unfortunate experience of falling apart. It feels like everything is my fault. I can do nothing right. Why isn't my life worse? Why do I still have a roof over my head and meals to eat? I still go to school and show my face. I smile and laugh, but if you really think about it, is it all real or am I just a really good actor?

I guess, maybe in a way or maybe completely, falling apart is just like falling into depression. It's blaming yourself for everything you've done wrong and not taking notice of the things you did right and good. It's blaming yourself for other people's problems, even when they say "It's not your fault" with smiling faces. It's feeling like you'll never smile or laugh with someone you love again.

In so many ways is falling apart like depression, some people even say falling apart is part of depression. In both situations you hate yourself, you feel like the world is wrong, nothing will ever go right. You notice when you genuinely laugh for the first time in a while because the ache in you pauses for just a moment until it hits you again. It's moments like those when you realize that it won't always be this way, always feeling like you're not doing it right. With that bit of hope, your life changes. It may take time, as it did with me, but it works. Eventually, you'll stop falling, because by then you will have learned to fly with hope.