𝐈𝐟 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐰

Seventeen.

[A/N: Early update because why not?]

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17.

Continued...

     I laid back down beneath the covers, feeling my heart rate increasing by the minute. I swallowed the huge lump in my throat, fighting the urge to do something sudden without thinking.

Apart of me wanted to pack all of Lotus and I's items, right now at three a.m., and take a Lyft back home but I couldn't do that to Beyoncé. I couldn't do something so rational without clear communication with her first.

I'm working on making healthy habits and decisions to better myself. This healing process is not for the weak but I'm trying my best. I actually plan to go to therapy this up and coming year. It's a lot I've suppressed over the years and I need to openly talk about it.

For a long time I was able to push my feelings aside and ignore my problems but my trama is catching up to me and it's bombarding me all at once.

I know this may be weak of me or even naive to say but I'm so scared of losing my girlfriend.

I turned to my side trying not cry even thinking about it. I just got her back and I don't want to lose her. I love her too much not to fight for our relationship. I hope that if she were in my shoes, she'd do the same. We're both still young, trying to find our place in this world. We have lots of room for growth and maturing.

As I tried closing my eyes to force myself back to sleep, my mind started racing at a hundred miles per minute.

What if she's gotten bored of me or tired of the waiting game because I haven't had sex with her? If sex is what she wants I should give it to her, I mean she is my girlfriend.

I should start going the extra mile.. maybe dress a little more sexier than I do, wear more revealing clothing. Keep my hair done. I could fix my posture sometimes too.

I've been considering going lingerie shopping with Robyn since she's an expert at shit like that.

What if Bey doesn't find me attractive anymore? She does compliment me often so I might be inaccurate about that.

I peeled the comforter back, sliding out of the bed once again. I strolled my way to the bathroom. Turning the lights on, I took a glance at my reflection in the mirror before me.

I stood there, observing my body, turning to catch how I appeared in different angles. I began to pick out my flaws, one by one. I counted so many of them. I'm beyond sure, Beyoncé has peep them as well.

I should look into getting a procedure done to remove my stretch marks and cellulite. Right when I've grown to love the imperfections on my body, I now feel a slight of discomfort.

I shouldn't even be invading my mind with these thoughts. I have a young daughter I'm raising, who looks up to me and that thought alone just made me feel so sick to my stomach. Shìt.

I took a deep breath, inhaling through my nose, releasing through my mouth.

Why am I alway fuckin crying? I'm so emotional. You need to learn to be stronger, Onika. Stop being so damn weak, Onika.

You're not depressed. You're fine. You're great.

I sometimes wish my brain was wired a little differently. That I could forget my problems and move on. It's never been that simple for me. I may be able to hide how I'm feeling but I still.. feel. My thoughts consume me.