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It’s 2AM and you still can’t sleep because you’re hurting and breaking and falling apart. You’re in bed with your face bathing in tears and snot, and when you’re tired of sniffing you blow your nose with a corner of the bedsheet.
There’s a pile of dirty dishes from Wednesday night rotting in the sink, and food particles have clogged the drain. Penicillin is sprouting out of the bluish-greenish film on the stagnant, sewage water in the sink and mosquitoes are breeding underneath. You’ve been telling yourself you’ll clean up that mess but you’ve been stuck under your blanket for 2 days, feeling like a miserable piece of undeserving shit. You only get up to go to the toilet. And to hunt for a strong drink which you’ll gulp straight from the bottle. And anything crunchy, salty and with chilli that you’ll eat straight from the pack, in bed, while wiping your stinging, wet nostrils with the back of your hand. When someone knocked on your door yesterday, you pulled the covers over your head and curled into a human ball while you sobbed, until they gave up, thinking you were not home.
You’ve been ignoring phone calls and you have no energy to respond to texts. Especially since you’ve added a lot of weight recently, and a few ‘friends’ have been sharing fat-shaming memes with you on WhatsApp, with the caption “LMAO”. Or you’ve lost so much weight that a few ‘concerned friends’ have sent you links to websites about living with AIDS, with the caption “you’re in my prayers”. You tell them that you’ve been extremely stressed. Troubled. Sad. Depressed. Grief-stricken. Hopeless. Dejected. Too exhausted to live. Then they quickly wave their hand dismissively and tell you that it’s life. That you should ‘man up’ and stop being a child. That there are people having it worse, and yet, are holding it together better than you. And so you crawl farther into your cave.
You are not worthless. You are not useless. You are incredibly gorgeous. You have nice hair. You are a well of magnificence and wonder. A freaking ray of sunshine. You should know that. And you will make it out. It will pass. You will triumphantly ride out of it. I don’t know how or when, but you will. Somehow.
You were given this life because you are strong enough to live it.
And if you live in my small town, let me know. I will come wash those dirty dishes for you and fix you something to eat while you lie down for as long as you need to. And remind you that you are important. And hug you. Tightly. Lovingly. Assuredly. And call you at the time of day (or night) that’s hardest for you.
Hang in there. Let’s hang in there. It’s just a few hours to dawn
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loving the post