≫ a collection of imagines for some of my favourite fictional characters and celebrities, part two.
(Gifs used are from google images, so credit to their rightful owners!)
I also post these imagines on tumblr x
summary: you need to start making changes in your new life, but you're not sure you can get used to being 'just friends' with Layla, no matter how hard you try.
warning/s: none.
author's note: here's part 2 to the few people reading this haha, hope you like it!
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It wasn't easy to accept that my life wasn't how I remembered it to be. In fact, it was a lot harder than I ever could have imagined.
After my breakdown following Layla's visit, I kept to myself. It wasn't intentional, but leaving my room would only remind me of what I'd lost out on, what had changed, so it was just easier to isolate myself and wallow in self-pity. It didn't help that my boxes from almost moving out were still stacked in the corner of my bedroom, constantly reminding me of what could have been.
At one point, I figured I should probably pack everything away since moving out was no longer my reality anymore, but it was probably a silly move since everything in there brought back bittersweet memories from my life with Layla. Photos, mementos, things she'd given me... I even found my phone, which I must have packed by accident or someone had thrown in here after I vanished. After charging it up, all I found were more painful memories of my old life. Photos of Layla and I, videos of us together at university, plans of our new place together.
I hadn't spoken to Layla since she'd visited and I was glad she was giving me the space because I had no idea what I would have said to her. It wasn't her fault, none of it was, but I couldn't bring myself to face her when I felt how I did. Even being with my mum hurt, watching her worry about me when I should have been a grown woman with a life of my own. There was something wrong with me and I didn't know how to fix it.
All the self-pity and isolation must have worried my mum more than she'd let on because after two weeks of it, she encouraged me to join a support group. Apparently she'd seen something about it around town when getting some groceries. It was a dedicated support group for people like me who had come back from the snap and couldn't deal with it. I didn't want to go, not at first, but after giving it a bit more thought, I knew it would be for the best. I wanted to get better and not feel so shitty, so I agreed to attend.
So, that's how I found myself sat in a circle of strangers at my local community centre. The attendees were a mixture of people whom I hadn't met before, all different ages. The person leading it, some qualified therapist, was patient with all of us and never pressured anyone to speak if they didn't want to which was lucky for me because I wasn't inclined to air my dirty laundry to a bunch of strangers.
Others seemed to like to speak though, and shared stories of how they were struggling to reintegrate back into society. It was comforting to know there were others like me who had missed out on so much, but it also hurt to know we were all going through it.
