Aurelie. [H.S]

CHAPTER 5

TW: TALKS ABOUT EATING DISORDERS AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS. 

I recommend listening to the song throughout the chapter :)

1st January 2016

New York City

Aurelie's POV

As I lay curled up in some kind of fuzzy blanket on Harry's sofa, I only now have time to catch up with my thoughts. 

Ever since I was a child, I've always been the kind of person who would reflect on things so deeply that it would become a problem. I would have the time of my life during the school holidays, yet the night before school started again I would wail silently and let the tears stream down my face until I would eventually become too exhausted, my tear ducts burning too bad to release any more of a river, drifting off to sleep to let my body recover. 

I would reflect on the such good times that I had, like seeing my Dad, getting to play with all of my toys, and at Christmas I would revel in the satisfying feeling of ripping thin wrapping paper off of my presents. I was never too bothered in what the present actually was, the enjoyment of tearing the paper was a present enough for me. It didn't matter whether the paper was plain or patterned, messy or neat, I loved it no matter the circumstances. Once I had finished overviewing the indescribable happiness that I had felt during my time off, a thick cloud of fear would blanket me even more than the duvet which I clung to my body so tightly, as a layer of protection from myself. 

I've never dealt well with fear, although I've always lived in a state of it. I was so scared that the good times would stop, that I would go back to school and that my toys would get lonely without me. 

After each holiday, the fears got even more frequent and even more serious. By the time I was eight, I was no longer afraid of leaving my teddy bears in the dark, I was afraid of losing people. My Grandad, who I was extremely close to, had passed away and my Mum was distraught. None of my attempts to comfort her were successful, I could only make her so many 'best mum in the world' cards and give her so many hugs before they lost their meaning, or so it seemed in her eyes. Each time they only got more meaningful, though. 

The two of us lived alone, leaving me constantly trying to comfort her, alone, without having anyone to comfort me. I've been extremely independent from a very young age. I would keep my mind busy during the day, reading books and investing myself in the characters, playing happy families with my barbie dolls and holding tea parties for all of my bears. I worked up quite an impressive collection of them, refusing to place the hundreds in a basket and instead hauling them all into my double bed with me. The nights would be spent tossing and turning, tucking bear after bear in once they fell out of the bed, whispering things I could only wish my Mum would say to me in an attempt to 'get them to sleep'. 

And that's how I distracted myself from a young age, putting others before myself. 

Whilst living in the fear of losing people, I lost myself.  At 12, my Grandma died. This time I was just numb, not batting an eyelid and hardly comforting my Mum. I truly had lost myself. Daytimes were always okay, I was never afraid or sad because I kept myself far too distracted. Exercising was the thing I worshipped most, the pain which would jolt through my muscles would temporarily replace the pain in my mind. But during the night, I was a prisoner to my own mind, held captive by myself. I had nothing to do but lie on my mattress and think. Each time I closed my eyes I would catch a glimpse of the next day, anxieties which I had held at bay threatening to appear as the walls felt like they were closing in more and more. My coping mechanism at night- crying. Weeping until the numbness would return and I could slowly ease myself into a soft sleep.