And I beg of you to read the following with an open heart and open mind. Been on my mind for a while. Needed to get it out.

People thought they knew her. They've seen her walking down the halls with a bright smile on her face. There were some who thought they knew her better than others. They assumed she was who she chose to be in front of them.

But in truth...They knew nothing about her. They couldn't see past those puffy eyes that cried all night until dawn breaks, dismissed those faked smiles to hide the pain, mistaken her trembling body for cold. Never took a second glance to why she wore sweaters and jeans on a hot summer day. Ignored how exceptionally relieved she was to warm up in wind breakers during winter. Bought her lies of "I'm okay, I'm fine".

Those who did knew what she was going through...they either couldn't save her because their lives were just as messed up, or they simply didn't care. They didn't care enough to check up on her. They walked away when she pushed them when she needed them the most. They gave up on her. Those who listened to her, listened to her problems, didn't understand.

They didn't understand the difference between listening and actually understanding.

They told her to get better. But they don't know how hard it is to get better. It's not that easy. It was like trying to climb out of a dark pit and the only way out was up . . . but where were the ropes to pull yourself out? They've forgotten to give her the rope.

Or they thought it was a phase. A phase that would end. They just never predicted it would've ended the way it did.

She cried, yelled, screamed, for help.

But got none. Was called an attention-. Shunned out for falling so deep into hell - but even hell had lights, had the fire . . . but her depression . . . there wasn't even a single light. It was just nothing but pitch black suffocating her to insanity.

She was tired of waking up every morning, wanting to just go back to sleep and never wake up. She had enough of feeling hollow, weak, useless, pathetic - alone. She was scared she would never stop from having an obsession to be skinny, to be perfect for everyone. Her energy was drained from trying to make sure everyone was fine until she'd forgotten about herself, her health.

The monsters in her head told her to destroy herself - it was the only thing she was good at, anyway. They filled her head with fantasies of death, pain - an end. She didn't want to get better, not when there were high chances of her falling down hard again. No, she wanted an end. And the monsters opened the dream for the one thing she ever wanted - for the pain to end.

So, when the clock struck 12:00A.M on the 1st of January 2014, she made a resolution to finally put an end to the ed up life she had been living in. Sitting alone in the bathtub, where the water washed over her, she took her razor and began to draw on the only paper available - her skin.

But just like every other human, she wanted to be saved. She wanted to believe things would be okay. But still . . . no one tried hard enough. Some may have even encouraged her, or mocked her further. By then, it was far too late.

On her legs were scars of the war she battled herself with. On her wrists, was a waterfall of blood gushing down to the sea of red in the bathtub. She felt weaker as blood and time flowed together. She could see her life flashing before her very eyes. Maybe there was even a smile playing at the corners of her lips, her heart calming down, for she was finally at peace.With her last words, her pain finally came to an end.

"My bath went from clear to red, let's hope this is the end" - 2 January 2014 (GMT+8)

R.I.P, E.D (@eating__probs) (mind you, don't check her twitter unless you can stand seeing some graphic pictures). You've touched many lives of people on Twitter and you will be missed by those who you were close to.

I never knew her personally. Never knew her at all until I heard about her death. At least I don't know if she's dead or not. Last I heard, she was in the hospital. I don't know if her tweets were just for attention. I don't know if she's alive and was just doing this for fun. I don't know.

But that doesn't mean people should ignore cries like these. Doesn't mean people should shun people for having problems too big to handle alone. You can NOT simply ignore people who have thoughts of suicide.

I may not know her background, I may have written a complete off and different story about her. I was simply writing for those in general, boys and girls, who go through pain every day. Who are shunned by people. Misjudged. Misunderstood. Mocked. Ignored. They're overwhelmed and suffocated with so much depression, so much misery, that their judgment's been clouded - it'll take a long time to realize death isn't the correct answer to end the pain.

Suicide is never a joke. Death itself is never a joke.

So if you know anyone who is going through depression, going through ANY kind of problems, reach out to them and help them. Pray for them. Support them. Let them know they're not alone. Even if it seems like they're doing this for attention - there's got to be a reason behind it, right?

Most importantly: don't ever walk away from them even when your patience is wearing thin