This is the life that she has always wanted, a beautiful apartment in the heart of the city, a good well-paying job, good friends but she still felt empty and hollow. All her life she had done everything by the book, the unwritten rules of life. Gaged by societal standards, she was what we all dreamt of becoming but every night, she battled her demons and now she was just a skeleton of her old self. She found comfort in a bottle of whisky. On days when she couldn’t stand the pain that ripped her soul apart, she slit her wrist. All she wanted was physical pain that could mask the emotional emptiness that she felt inside, so she cut herself. And don’t get it twisted, this was no suicide mission, she just held onto anything that could take her pain away. If she could talk to her younger self, here is what she would say:
“Let down your guard and allow yourself to feel the warmth of love. It will get better, it always does. You are young, you have your whole life ahead of you so don’t sweat the small stuff, everything will fall into place exactly as it should. But above all, live life on your own terms. You will make a dozen of mistakes but learn how to forgive yourself. Some mistakes, well, you learn how to live with. Be kind to you.” Simple , everyday words but if someone had told her this when she was 18, her life would probably have been different. Now she’s 33, alone and drunk. See life gives you second chances but it does not erase your mistakes, your past never leaves you. She hated who she had become and if given the chance, she would do it all differently.
Every night she hears his cries, she can’t tell if it’s a dream or that the sins of her past are haunting her. She had named him Andrew, he would be turning 13 today and she would have bought him a fruit cake and candles but now all she had were painful memories and regrets. She wished she had fought harder but she was young and confused and thought that her life was over. She would have turned around when she got to the clinic that day but she kept walking. She had a thousand chances to change her mind but she didn’t. All she wanted was to get rid of the tiny innocent being growing inside of her. She had always wanted to be a mother, but not like this, not with him. Andrew would probably have looked like him and she would hate him for that but what kind of a mother hates her own son, she couldn’t live with that so she opted out.
She thought she would be relieved after the procedure but instead she felt empty, like a part of her had been taken away. She felt her soul tearing away from her flesh, she was breaking piece by piece. She felt caged by her own conscious and guilt. She was drowning in pain but the world around her just kept moving. She sat there, still. And all these years all she thought about was the kind of a son Andrew would have been. She loves art and painting so maybe Andrew would have been a brilliant artist, she would have coached him. She would have protected him and guided him. She would have made a good mother, but now she’s not sure anymore. So she spends her nights drinking her sorrows away. All the evacuation notices from her landlord are in the bin, I have no idea when she’s planning to pay her bills. Her boss has warned her several times about skipping work days but honestly she has no reason to wake up every morning. I hope that one day she forgives her younger self. I hope that she learns how to live with her past. I hope that she falls in love with life again. I hope that she realizes that it was all part of the process. But until then, she’s sticking to her bottle of whisky.
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