One night, she sat on her bed, knees drawn to her chest, staring at the ceiling.
The rain fell endlessly outside, soft and unrelenting.
She thought of fleeting smiles, of warm moments that had vanished.
She thought of all the times she had almost believed, even for a second, that happiness could exist for her.
It could not.
Some people are born to be loved, she thought quietly.
Some people are born to endure.
I am one of them.
The tears were silent, soaking into her pillow. She did not beg.
She did not cry aloud.
She simply accepted, as she had always had to, that life would never give her the warmth, the pride, the love she longed for. She would live without it, because that was all life allowed her.
Outside, the rain fell endlessly, soft and cold. Lilly closed her eyes and became one with the silence, invisible, unheard, forgotten, and hopeless.