She wanted to die.
He wanted to live.
•••
A hand grabbed onto my wrist, yanking me back just as the train rushed past, before I'd even had time to comprehend whether or not I'd carry out the action. I stumbled back into the person's chest, my hear...
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If someone could record all the different voices in my head and listen to it, I think it would drive them crazy.
Negative thoughts were hardly surprising to me anymore, since their effect had been worn out and repeated so many times I had learnt to live with it as background noise. At times, it could get too loud and overwhelming, but majority of the time it was controlled chaos, streams of self-deprecation that were now learned beliefs and no longer insults.
But for once, these voices weren't negative – arguably, they were worse:
I couldn't get Romeo's words out of my head.
Part of me was in denial about the compliment, the tiniest fraction of me was slightly pleased, and the overpoweringly huge part of me was absolutely terrified, as usual. My mind scrambled to find as many different meanings as possible for the short phrase he'd spoken, the numerous voices of my consciousness all shouting over each other, trying to get their perspectives aired without regard for their struggling listener.
I found myself replaying all our previous interactions: from the times we'd held hands in a completely platonic way, to when our faces had been closer than usual, to when he'd held me tight after my nightmare, and up to mere moments ago when he'd spoken the words 'Just like you'.
My thoughts were whizzing around so rapidly, and the only thing I could do to block them out was to force myself to focus on one thing: writing a poem.
Retrieving my journal from my bag, I sat down and flipped open the next clear page, after having reminisced over everything that had occurred between me and Romeo tonight. It was only then, as I retraced our steps through all the events which had led us to this moment, that I realised:
We had been through a lot; more specifically, I had been through a lot.
Not even necessarily in general, but just throughout tonight, a lot had happened, and somehow, for some incredible reason, I had been able to survive it all, even when I was deliberately trying not to. Even smaller things, like making the decision to stop running away the minute things turned uncomfortable, and deciding to try and find who I am again, were big steps for me to take, despite them appearing as minor achievements.
I would never usually acknowledge my small steps of progress – not that I usually had any – but I suppose after getting a reality check from Romeo about how I couldn't just give up on myself, things finally began to click in my brain.
I wasn't making a promise to start being kinder to myself, but I could at least acknowledge my pain and understand that I got through everything I thought I wouldn't. Like after my nightmare- night terror, when all I'd wanted to do was, quite frankly, die; or at the very start of tonight, when I'd planned that today would be the last day I would breathe; and yet, here I was, sat atop of a rooftop with an ethereally beautiful view in front of me and a boy who was seemed almost too good to be true.
