People called her difficult
without ever knowing what she had survived.

They saw sharp edges,
but not the hidden shaking,
the resentment burning low in her chest.

She learned to hide it all behind polite smiles
and half-finished replies.

There were nights she stayed alive out of nothing but spite.

Days she moved through ordinary conversations
while entire sections of her were quietly collapsing behind the walls.

Still,
she kept something alive in herself.

Not hope.
Not happiness.

Just a small stubborn refusal
to become as cold as the people who hurt her.

And honestly,
that probably saved her life.

-Mandy Ricks