𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 was raised from the ground up knowing nothing but comparison and perfection.
She compared herself to her successful parents, supermodel sister, and glamorous friends. Instead of love, she harbored a raging jealousy for nea...
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S i m o n e
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The next morning, I woke up disoriented, naked, and defeated.
For two more days, I couldn't get out of bed.
For some strange reason the familiar feeling of rejection pained me like a first-time injury.
I felt hopeless in a brand new way. I was experiencing a sort of despair in a brand new light and it was making me wonder if I'd recover properly this time.
It was also making me think that the previous times I'd been hurt this thoroughly that maybe I was being dramatic. Because all those times were so incomparable to now.
I tried to console myself, downplay the situation and manipulate my memory of the night.
But I still remembered it all too well the first day to lose track of the facts. So instead I tried to tell myself I had expected this to happen eventually and that it was better sooner than later.
I knew he'd grow tired of me. I knew I shouldn't have believed I was more than a pretty face. I knew I shouldn't have trusted his words. And yet I did, so why am I shocked at the outcome I prepared for all along?
On day two, when I did finally lure myself out of bed, I did it with the mindset that nothing really changed because that night hadn't really happened and my body was still clean of Nicolas.
I wanted to follow through on my promise to myself; that if I was proven right by Nicolas and recovery ended up being worthless then I'd go back to my old self and continue to restrict until I was too perfect to risk losing it all again. But that meant I'd have to confront the idea that the night was real and I was still avoiding doing that.
So I decided for now I'll maintain; neither lose or gain.
I made a yogurt bowl for my 7 PM breakfast and ate it so slowly it became room-temperature all while watching TV and stopping my heart from feeling any agony. It simply hadn't happened, I'd chant. That wasn't me and that wasn't Nicolas, and it was just a bad yet vivid dream to end a bad night.
