- I don’t like folding laundry or talking about my emotions. I’m likely to leave both scattered all over.
- I’m not much for cooking but there will always be coffee.
- I’ll wear anything of yours with sleeves. I love when they’re long enough to wrap around my hands.
- Sometimes the world is too harsh, too big. It’s hard to leave the house on days like those.
- When I was sick as a kid my mom would run a bath for me and wash my hair. It was always so soothing. Maybe you could do that every once in a while.
- I find it difficult to finish most things. My room is home to countless journals of incomplete thoughts.
- I won’t love you any less in December. I think my heart just wasn’t meant for the cold.
- I never truly know why I’m crying so don’t bother to ask, simply be there.
- There’s whiskey in the medicine cabinet.
- If things get terribly bad, please don’t give up. Get me in the car and drive to the sea. The waves beneath my toes will wake me up and I’ll be yours again. “
I know that he doesn’t understand my dark days, I’m not sure he can get depression or true, inexplicable sadness into his head. He’s too care free, too relaxed.
But he makes me laugh when all I want to do is cry. He holds my hand and takes me with him when it’s too much for me to go on. He will put on my favourite tv show or something stupid. He’ll wind me up with his annoying ways to make me feel something again.
He doesn’t know why I feel suffocated sometimes, any more than I do. He doesn’t know why I feel like it’s raining and I’m choking with all there is in the world. He always manages to see the sun and he’s only ever sad for three minutes and then he can let it all go. I can’t do that.
But he’ll bring me ice cream and cake. He’ll wrap me up in a blanket and run his hands through my hair. He’ll tell me some dumb ass story from his day and he’ll wipe the tears away.
He doesn’t get that it’s not that I don’t want to get out of bed, I simply can’t. He doesn’t know why I become entirely absorbed and obsessed with what I don’t have, why I get so scared that I can’t see the light anymore. Every day is good for him, it’s easy, it’s calm. I envy him.
But he’ll ask me what my favourite book is and why, just to get me talking passionately about something again, even though he’s heard it a thousand times before. He’ll fetch that Tigger I’ve had for years because it’s comfort and it smells like home. He’ll ask me about my Dad, he’ll buy me pizza, he’ll put on a song I love.
He has no idea why I get so sad, but he stays.