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143
Will I ever be her again?
<p><br/></p><p>Will I ever be my old self again?</p><p>the genuinely happy, free-spirited girl I was</p><p>before grief moved in like an uninvited guest?</p><p>Before I learned that life doesn’t come with a safety net.</p><p>Before I poured sand on you, calling it “last respect.”</p><p>Will I ever be genuinely stable?</p><p>I keep asking.</p><p>They say therapy,but even my therapist whispers uncertainty.</p><p>People heal in healthy surroundings,</p><p>and mine feels forever soaked in toxic energy and faces I can’t escape.</p><p>“Try journaling,” they said.</p><p>But ink on paper won’t resurrect me.</p><p>“Go out, have fun,” they said.</p><p>I did.</p><p>I smiled, I danced, I laughed.</p><p>But I always came back to my room</p><p>where my pillow has memorized my tears</p><p>and my mirror has memorized my eye-bags.</p><p>If they could speak,</p><p>my pillow would be my confessional</p><p>and my mirror, my therapist.</p><p>My walls know my life story by heart,</p><p>they’ve heard me sob in the dark.</p><p>If they had arms, they’d have pulled me into a hug.</p><p><br/></p><p>Since losing you, I’ve been doing life alone.</p><p>The strongest person they know.</p><p>Independent.</p><p>Never asking for help.</p><p>Weird, isn’t it?</p><p>I used to run to you for every tiny inconvenience</p><p>even an insect bite.</p><p><br/></p><p>Now I sit with depression. Alone.</p><p>Anxiety. Alone.</p><p>Molestation. Alone.</p><p>Rape. Alone.</p><p>Shame. Alone.</p><p><br/></p><p>Sounds like an achievement, right?</p><p>Oh No.</p><p>It’s the slow unraveling of my mind.</p><p><br/></p><p>I’ve started seeing things that aren’t there.</p><p>Shouting at myself in public.</p><p>The pictures on the walls are talking.</p><p>All of a sudden, I cut myself.</p><p>I burn myself.</p><p><br/></p><p>And here I am.</p><p>Asking if there’s any way back.</p><p>Back to the girl who once believed</p><p>she deserved light.</p>
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THIS INSIGHT HAS STARTED RECEIVING TIPS
159
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