Not a day goes by when I don’t wish you had stayed a little longer, been a little stronger…
I still look for you in the stars each night, you promised you would be the brightest one.
Sometimes when I feel so alone and the familiar hollowness explodes in my chest, I imagine you beside me with a smile on your face and a bomb-scarred hand on my shoulder, and everything is a little more bearable.
Christmas Eve is in a week and a half…don’t worry, I’ll have extra bread sauce and a cigarette for you.
I hope one day I can truthfully say that I’m as interesting, caring, honest and lovely as you.
To the man who broke my nose, my ribs, my esteem.
I’m a much better and stronger person for it :)
On the night I got so drunk that I gave myself appendicitis, somebody that wasn’t there sat beside me all night. On a friend of a friend’s sofa, in London, over 200 miles from home.
When I woke In the morning, still sat up, where I had positioned myself the only way I could have with the other seat taken, they were gone. When I asked my friends who had been there, everybody could account for being in other rooms all night.
So I laughed it off and carried on.
Even now though, 6 years on, I can remember the dark shape, how it was fuzzy around the edges and it soothed me. I felt so beautifully serene in the company, and in the morning I felt a familiar emptiness, that had not been felt since age 12.
I have never decided what happened that night, I’ll probably never know.
I want to write my old counsellor a letter…Or a card?
But not as a writer…No flowery articulation.
Perhaps just a list of my achievements in the last 6 months…
I have not once had a can of energy drink and thought of it as a meal…or 2 meals in 1….Or 3 meals in 1.
I have eaten a proper meal at least once a day and despite a few falls have not felt the need to purge.
I can sit in the same room as her now…And although blood still boils in my arteries occasionally…I let it pass me by.
I have eaten a meal with strangers…TWICE.
I still feel the void in my stomach that has been there for 12 years this year…But I’m okay with it…I even managed to visit the crematorium.
I still see shadows running towards me on that road, but I know they aren’t real.
When I find the words…I will message his mother to apologise. If I had known, I would have saved him. This thought reminds me that it was not my fault…Though he still follows me through my dreams.
I am no longer afraid of the boy who hit me. The boy who broke my nose. If I was to ever meet him again, I feel that I could return that favour.
But most of all I just want to let her know I’m more than ‘Okay’ as I know she tired of hearing every week…
I can honestly say I’m happy. And that I’m okay with being happy.