“My
sister was beautiful once. Not
a striking beauty; no one would mistake her for a model.
But she had that inner beauty, that glow, that something that
every person tries to achieve.
It made her beautiful. When I look at her now, all I see are
worry lines, dark cirlces, and
stress.
The light is gone from her
eyes, and I haven't seen her smile in years. She used to be
beautiful.
But I guess depression is like an anti-makeup. It has stolen her light, her
beauty. Now all she is,
is stress and worry and darkness.”
“My sister was beautiful once. Not a striking beauty; no
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Jun 12, 2016 2:47pm
