𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐋 {18+} ✓

UNFURL

I'm standing in the line, waiting for my turn. I look around. Lots of people walking in different directions with a blank stare on their faces. Playing on their phones or engrossed in what seems like banal conversations. Whatever they are doing, they don't see anything else. They aren't aware of their surroundings, and they don't even care. Society is losing its humanity. So ironic.

There is an old man standing with his suitcase. He is invisible to the world. The passing of the years is clear in his face. Seems like he doesn't remember how to smile. Wrinkles frame his sad and lonely eyes, but it isn't just that. Sorrow, a slow and silent killer, is living deep within his heart.

Next to him there is a young couple. She's asking him to repeat some selfies because she doesn't look good. They'll probably upload them to Facebook, Instagram or some other social media site but not before editing or adding some filter to enhance them, of course. Not that I care. I just don't understand why people pretend like that. Why do they choose a fake fairytale-like love over a genuine relationship? I roll my eyes and sigh. People are hollow inside.

Then I see this young woman. Something inside me breaks like a crystal vase crashing to the ground. My heart is mercilessly stabbed. She is carrying a lot of bags and the baby in her arms won't stop crying. She looks anxious, about to jump off a cliff. And yet I'd give anything to be in her shoes.

The line starts moving and makes me come back to reality. Soon, I reach my seat on the plane. I sigh, I need to stop thinking so much, I need to go on with my life. The world will keep spinning around no matter what, I know.

It has almost been a year since my invisible loss. And as a psychiatrist, I should know better but it's just too hard. That incident cut the peace out of us and tore our souls.

After three desperate and frustrating years, we finally got gifted with a new life. We were going to be parents, we couldn't believe it. We were ecstatic, walking over the moon, but seven months later we lost it all. He was taken away from us. We couldn't even hold him in our arms. Twisted fate.

All our hopes were buried with him.

We let our tears flow in that damn white sanitized room but the hole in our chests didn't disappear. I spent weeks grieving in his room because that was all I had left. Nothing helped. And the day we gave all his little socks and clothes away felt like death. Bitter agony.

Everything went to hell.

My husband started acting weird. Mute smiles, black circles under his eyes. The light in him faded away. He started drinking a bit too much and getting late from work became the norm. I never distrusted him before, but I have to admit that I thought he was seeing someone else. The worst thing was that I didn't even care at that point. Depression was eating us alive.

Later that year I got part of what makes us women removed. People tried to comfort us but saying stuff like "you can always adopt" doesn't help at all. Fuck it. Couldn't they just leave us alone to mourn?

Eating disorders followed. Sleep deprivation and somnambulism became my nightly routine. Migraines started to be an everyday thing. A halo of bitter disease. I needed help, I decided. So I began to go to therapy alone as he said it was just some stupid bullshit.

We got lost in an ethyl cloud of alcohol and pills that became a familiar taste of poison, shallow words and empty memories as we drifted apart.The place we shared didn't feel like a home anymore. Now it's just a dim and cold house, a meaningless place to hide.

Today I'm going on a four days trip. Some business shit. I don't feel like going to this meeting, even though I always wanted to go. It obviously isn't the prime time of my life.