Therapy Sessions: Something New

​Dear Siya,

I’ve learnt a something new. A thing or two from Heartbreak.

It is a pain that lives. It has a mind of its own. Places it must go.

When I'm conscious of where it goes, I feel it take root in my feet. I can’t get up.

The weight is too much.

The pain is too heavy.

Sometimes it lives in my hands; I can’t lift them to eat. If I move them too much it feels like they might break.

When I think I have bested it, and they work to put food in my mouth, it travels to my stomach. It makes it impossible to keep in what I have managed to swallow.

When it is time to rest it flows up to my brain.

It takes away my ability to sleep.

It stops me from dreaming.

It is a living thing that hates me and punishes me for its existence.

I blame myself for creating this thing.

This thing that leaves me at the brink of tears, fighting the urge to cry in public spaces. This thing that makes me sad and angry and bitter, so that it is on the tip of my tongue to lash out and share my unhappiness.

This thing that makes me want to share my pain like a disease.

I hate my face. I hate my body.

(Pretty girl. Pretty thing}

I hate that it is what has caused this. Pretty enough to keep them here and wanting.

Not enough to be sure of me. To want me (the entirety of my person). To know me.

I don’t want to be ugly. I wish that I was.

Sometimes I am tempted to scar my face forever so that it will be the shield that protects me from eyes that want only what they see. From boys and girls that want all that is physically attractive about me, but none of my substance.

That will care so long as I am willing and available. That will disappear once I am not.

Heartbreak has made me unrecognisable.

Who is looking back at me from the mirror with dead dead eyes?

Who is this person that is waiting and waiting for the opportunity to do anything and say anything to the source of her pain so they can make it disappear?

Who is this girl that counts the seconds till she can be home and in bed to begin the process of her liquid release? because it’s not just the boy, it’s her life?

Who is this? Who is she? 

Heartbreak has made me unrecognisable.

I can’t remember who I was before.

I struggle to cram it in with all the other ones, but it can’t fit.

This one doesn’t fit. This one is different.

When it is done travelling through my body, it settles in my chest. It pumps poison through my bloodstream. 

Not enough to kill me. Just enough to ensure that I always feel sick and tired.

So so tired.

I’ve learnt too much about myself from Heartbreak.

Things I must unlearn and unsee.

Siya, I don’t know how to come back.

How does Fri come back?

 

 

 

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