My Lifeline

Epilogue

River's POV
THE WINTER DANCE

When I think back on the way I used to be, my heart begins to hurt and my lungs start to seize. So much life was lost and wasted, simply because I was so depressed and anxious. There was so much I missed out on, so much that I refused to see and do, so many things I refused that could have been good for me.

There's nothing I can do to ever get that time back, to replay the moments of my life that I wish I could make up for. I've accepted that, and I've started to make up for it. No more staying in bed all day, no more listening to the bad thoughts and allowing them to consume me, no more missing out on important moments, no more staring in the mirror and picking out all the things I hate about myself, no more regret about things I cannot change.

It's time to live. Freely. With no more hatred or sadness.

I won't hide anymore. I won't pull away and disappear from the world because I'm scared of being hurt by others. There's going to be days where I will struggle and feel my heart bleed from the pain I go through, but I know I'm in the right mindset to finally get through it without giving up.

People are going to hurt me. This world is full of people who are in pain and have so much anger that they shove onto other people. I can't escape from that, but I can choose whether I let it affect me. I get to decide what to do next. I choose to not hurt others, and instead help those people who feel so alone and scared.

That's all we need. Help.

After many years of terrible mental health and feeling like the world beneath my feet was crumbling, I finally got the help I so desperately needed. I wasn't sure if therapy would ever actually help me, I was so sure that it would just exhaust me and cause everything to get worse by having to talk about it. But it helped me to see the world in a whole new light, I learnt about myself, my ways of coping, new techniques to control those dark thoughts. I learnt about my dad, about why he might've acted that way, about why he refused help.

I finally understand everything.

The pieces are slowly fitting together.

I'm no longer surviving.

I'm living.

* * *

The dress that fits against my body is my favourite colour. The lace feeling hangs off my shoulders by a single strap, low cut, but not low enough to show much cleavage. Its black fabric reaches my feet that are fitted into a pair of black heels that my mum gifted me. As I've never worn heels before, she gave me short ones that I can walk easily in without tripping every few seconds. There's a slit in the dress, reaching to my bare thigh.

I stare at myself in the mirror, trying to coach myself into saying kinds things; something my therapist instructed me to do to help love myself again.

Slowly but surely, I'm making progress.

My acne scars, my stretch marks, my smile, my teeth, my body. I'm teaching myself to accept it all, every single one of my flaws that I've always tried to hide from. They're a part of me, they're what make me unique. They're the parts I should love the most.

I can't help but smile at myself as I gaze over my wavy hair, my glowing skin, the dress. For the first time, I actually feel beautiful.