When I was in seventh grade I took a knife to my wrist, not to kill myself but to feel it. To see the mark it left. I wasn’t a cutter but the pale scar that’s long since disappeared was a badge of sorts. A reminder that I feel things, sometimes so intensely, but eventually the feelings subside. My parents asked me if I was suicidal, then bought me shoes.
Fifteen years later, I am probably in the worst head space of my life, up to this point anyway. I have constant feelings of being stuck, alone and altogether joyless. I have good days. I’ve had a lot of them lately actually. But I have bad days too. When all I can do is call my dad, sit almost silently on the phone and pretend I’m not crying. Tonight was one of those nights. I reassured him I was OK, said I just had a bad day and needed sleep. When I convinced him he didn’t need to come make me dinner and I was going to be OK, he offered to buy me shoes for Christmas.
Some people would be angry maybe by their loved ones’ response to their depression if instinct told them shoes would make it better. I feel almost relieved. Because my dad, who was so miserable at his job and after more than 30 years finally left to find happiness, has time to worry about me when he should be taking care of himself. And because I’m still his little girl who always loved shoes, he wants to make it better the only way he knows how. Even if he can’t afford it.
That touches my heart and makes me want to be better.
I am alone. But I’m never alone. It makes all the sense in the world to a person who doesn’t quite make sense.
Hello? Little human? Okay I kiss you now.
id rather fall in lava than fall in love
i have a love/hate relationship with boys. i love them. they hate me
My worst nightmare.