I still wonder if we actually remember what makes us sad or depressed, if our body is set to a certain type of mechanism that lets us feel an indescribable feeling, which allows myself to feel hurt. Sometimes we don’t even remember what makes us sad, the feeling where our body is trembling, that even looking in the mirror is nothing more than sadness and self-hatred.
I believe a person’s name could taste sweet or bitter. Some are very mildly sour, or mildly savoury. When it slips off your tongue, either because something reminds you of them or when you hear a group of teens from your next class mentioning his name. You won’t exactly be able to remember every single reason why his name tastes bitter in your life, but what you know is that it gives you pain. Sometimes a very unbearable pain even when you forget him long enough to remember why you need to.
And even after years passed by, when you no longer remember the sound of his laughter, when you’ve moved on, even after the memory fades on what his favourite coffee tastes like, you’ll always remember that pain. The pain of rejection, the emotionally abusive pain. Sometimes you can even physically feel it, even when he is not the reason behind it. And that is why you feel so messed up. You feel like nobody is going to understand you and you’re just being paranoid of your past. You’re deeply wounded and you can’t even explain how.
And because of that, here’s a few reminders for your strong broken heart, for all the times you’re still struggling to love the parts of yourself that no one claps for, and you fall and break and twist on brick and mortar. Every time you fall and get back up and dust yourself off, you’re strong. You’re strong for forcing yourself to eat when you don’t feel like it on Saturday mornings. You’re strong when hopes are faint and you’re breaking and you can’t seem to get out of bed. You’re strong and you carry the universe on your back. Your past might hurt you and haunt you, so here’s a reminder that you’re strong.
The night will warm your body again and tuck you into sleep. You’ll wake up again and feel okay. But until then, you’re strong.
AUTHOR: Love, J.
AUTHOR BIO: Love, J. has suffered two years with mental illnesses and is slowly recovering. She loves the idea of hand-lettering, nights filled with adventures and roadtrips and believes that things do get better. She adores the idea of writing. She writes poetry in her tumblr (herfragileconstellations.tumblr.com) when things get a little rough or a little better. She would love to connect with people of the same battles or someone who needs someone to listen to or a simple hello.
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