One night, sitting in solitude, she asks herself through hysterical tears "Why am I here?" She counts the people who care about her, there are two. She wishes she can be someone else, someone perfect. She thinks about the world, she thinks she knows everything; she knows nothing. She thinks shes taking the path to freedom, but it's the path to self-distruction. Internally she cries, screams and begs for help, no one listens. She laughs, but tears fall to the floor. She dreams of a place where she is happy, but the devestation of reality is not far behind. She looks in the magazines, she wishes she could look like that. The hair, the make-up, the body, the smile. She hides herself behind a materialistic demon. She gets up to dance her fears and unhappiness away; she falls to the ground. It's too late. No one can help. She lies in a broken heap in her room. She never asked for this, no one cares, shes not perfect, she knows nothing, self-destruction lies ahead, no one listens, only tears are present, shes fake, shes a demon.

Slowly but surely, she picks herself up. She wipes off the mask that hides her inner beauty, an angel shines through. She looks at the magazine, tears it to peices. She looks in the mirror, she sees herself. The hair, the make-up, the body, the smile. She starts accepting herself. She thinks of her fantasy world, her longing for happiness. She meets a boy. He sees her for her. She is happy and devestation crumbles. Her cries and screams turn into words, people listen. She knows nothing about the world, she is willing to gain the knowledge. She no longer wishes she is someone else, she's perfect. She counts the people care, there are more than two. One morning, sitting in solitude, she answers herself through a smile, "I am here to live."