The girl who was everything

—from a book no one knew she was writing, because no one thought to ask if she had a story.

She was the girl who had it all.
Or so they said.

The kind of girl who made life look easy—like winning was her second nature and multitasking was just part of her DNA. Fast, focused, fearless. Good at every sport. Sharp in every subject. Quietly brilliant in ways most people never even realized.

And kind.
Always kind.

People surrounded her. Teachers praised her. Strangers admired her. Friends—well, people called themselves her friends. But if she ever paused long enough to really look… she’d notice how few of them actually stayed.

Because here’s what they never saw:
Behind the perfect scores and polite smiles… she was exhausted.
Tired of being “the strong one.” Tired of being “the mature one.”
Tired of being good enough for the world but never quite enough to be loved without conditions.

No one knew how early it had all started.
She was five.
Five years old when life handed her responsibilities meant for someone five times her age.
Five when she first had to choose silence over tantrums.
Five when she stopped being the child and started becoming the glue.

She raised her younger brother with hands that were still learning to write.
Played parent to parents who were too lost to see what they were doing to her.
Stood between arguments like a human shield.
Woke up with nightmares that didn’t belong to her.

And in between it all, she made herself perfect.
Because deep down she believed that if she was exceptional enough, someone would finally stay. Someone would finally love her not for what she could do, but for who she was.

But no one ever did.

People came when they needed something.
And left the moment she needed them back.

Some left gently.
Most didn’t.
Some said they loved her.
All of them made sure to prove otherwise.

And yet, she smiled.

She always smiled.
Even when her chest ached with the weight of invisible wounds.
Even when the nights got so heavy that even sleep became a luxury.
Even when she sat in rooms full of people and felt like a ghost.

There’s a kind of loneliness that doesn’t scream.
It just sits there, beside you.
In crowded classrooms.
In group chats filled with notifications but no one who actually cares.
In family dinners where everyone laughs, but no one sees the tear that never fell.

She was seventeen now.

Seventeen, with the world expecting her to do more, be more, fix more.
Seventeen, with the pressure of being perfect stitched into her skin.
Seventeen, and already tired of pretending she wasn’t breaking.

And still…
She kept going.
Still woke up.
Still tried.
Still loved people who didn’t know how to love her back.

Not because she didn’t know her worth.

But because somewhere deep down, she still believed that love—real love—might find her.

Not for her trophies.
Not for her talents.
Not for the smile she wore like armor.

But for her.

The girl behind it all.

The girl who was everything… and yet, just wanted to be something to someone.