It all starts with you not wanting to get out of bed. The hint of you being fucked up again.
She's been laying around for a month already. Not a single person or activity sparked the tiniest bit of interest in her. The absence of a preset routine scared her. She couldn't bear the responsibility of making a choice that might end up with negative implications and consequences. In order not to, she decided not to decide. Not to choose. For choosing meant risking. And risking meant strength. Something she didn't possess anymore. Or did she?
How could you even think this was meant to be easy? In a world of contradictions and injustice, ignorance is bliss.
She started with good coffee and good books. Getting out of bed, she would spend hours in her sweater and wrinkled pants sipping on strong black coffee and burying her thoughts in between the lines of books. Undone hair, unlined eyes. She often got lost in this overthinking process. Scrutinizing every single detail of each episode. Replaying every single day of each year. What went wrong? Where did it? Could/Should she have done things differently?
No matter how hard it gets, know that it shall pass. Do not think you can climb the slope on your own. People - real ones - help. To some extent. For the way out is when you start loving yourself all over again.
She found it hard to be alone. With no one to wake up to. With no one to wake her up. She found it hard to feel unloved. Until she realized that she should give herself all the love by herself. She breathed in her insecurities. She started accepting her imperfections. She stared at herself for hours in front of the mirror. She told herself how beautiful she was. How she had the deepest eyes. How her smile conquered hearts. How she thought her hair was pretty. How she loved her curves. How much she loved herself. And how no one else mattered. Neither what they thought or said.
One word. Faith.