Their judging stares make her giggle 
For they do not know 
They do not know that a year ago she would drink as though she was a baby and the alcohol was milk
Swallowing and coughing until her body would fly away
Inhaled smoke as if it were oxygen
She claimed she was an artist 
Her brushes were metal and the paint was red 
They came with their untrue words whispered throughout the night 
Their invisible fingers reaching down her throat, making her weightless
She convinced herself she loved the numbers 
700
550
110
No matter how much it hurt
She was a wintergirl, floating on empty ness
Obsesses with the idea of destruction
But this pain wasn't her reality, it was what she manufactured in her mind
Without knowing it She gave up what she needed most
Now with a road map of scars and broken bridges needing to be mended I am relieved to be brave enough  to answer no.