She was hurt, and fixed herself as well as she was able even when not understanding the cause and nature of her injuries. Unable to fix some she patched them with blood and tears.
Years passed and she degenerated slowly in some ways and grew in others. A job brought a host of unexpected stress, in many ways and change more rapidly than at any time her life.
Her fingers skitter across the keyboard, putting down heartwords. It hurts but she knows that without it she'll falter and fall; love is not enough when there is no release.
Music is there in her ears as usual.
It is her balm from the pain of life and love.
Writing is her new tool. And she wills it to become her legacy.
She weeps because there is never enough to fill the gaps and cracks, because she knows that she will forever be alone and there is no one there that she can turn to for help.
As long as she is able she keeps her eyes from the blades. As long as she is able, she tries to fix what is too crushed to repair. There is no more light, only grayness as the lights fade.
Eventually they will fade completely and she will be black enough to join the shadows that live at the edge of the world. When that day comes there will be no more world. No more blood and tears and those around her will await their turns to join the shadows at the edge of the world.