I can’t say the breakup was difficult. The words came out with an unedifying and horrifyingly cold dialect. The light of my perfect world had burst into a vengeful fire of hatred and sadness. I looked into the mirror and saw an empty shell of who I used to be. My eyes cried help and my smile sat broken by the world around it. I took a breath in and remembered what had triggered my rash and utterly crazy decision. What had driven me to be so cold, so sure. The small moment, that I believe, saved my life.

The moment was a rich and deep purple. Dusk.

I walked through the thick double doors of the hospital wing, a beaten and shattered soul. Each hour had seemed to torment me with its own hellish creation. He seemed not to care very much about what I was becoming, and I found myself not caring very much either. Heavy bags sat under my eyes, my make-up was smudged, and my clothes untidy. My mind wandered around blindly and I felt a dark heaviness on my shoulders. Through the doors, glass replaced the dull gray walls I’d stared at all day. It was cool, and the air was even, but that classical hospital smell still resided. Through the glass, I got my first look over the city (my first look at anything besides that room) that day. That unforgettable purple seemed to radiate a bittersweet sadness. I stood silently and wandered about my conscious, taking in the sweet and succulent sight. My eyes had craved beauty ever so much. The world itself seemed to put on a show for the sad, confused girl thrust into a situation beyond her years. And although I’d missed the main act, stuck up in that room, the finale did not disappoint. The city below bustled without a care for such a sky. Like it was nothing. But to a girl as defeated as me, well that sky was everything.