So she sat there, like she always had, doing nothing but staring at the walls. It was as if she was lost, lost in her own world, lost for the outsiders, lost in her own dreams and imaginations. But the truth was she was stuck and she did not know the way out.
Everyday she moved deeper in, like disappearing in quick sand. Her will remained, but it was but a streak of hope, that came and went by its wish. She had nothing to hold onto, perhaps no one even bothered, and that was what hurt her the most, the uncaring and cold attitude.
She wanted to be free and wild, but what remained was a frail weak person with no identity, someone unnamed, incapable of continuing on her own accord.
She needed desperate help, which never came, for everyone thought her strong and pure. No one knew that inside she was weak and dejected.
Her focus shifted, never actually staying, and her mind wandered. She was but lost.