Photograph- Demi Lovato

2

Demi

I saw him, we were both at a gala for a mental health advocate company that we'd supported as a couple when we were together. They told me he wasn't going to be here, that I'd be safe from his warm, brown eyes that I could pick out from a crowd of thousands of people. Our eyes met, and he took a step in my direction causing me to scurry away with my head down, getting lost in the slew of people. A few minutes later, I found a table with my name card on in and sat down, putting my head in my hands. Soon, people began to take their seats, my table filled with people until there was only one seat, the one to my left, was open. It was taken by a man in a dark suit with a clean-shaven face. Wilmer. I looked at him quickly and then stared back at my hands.

"Demi." I met his gaze, a certain intensity behind his eyes. I nodded and he opened his mouth, but the announcer drew our attention towards the stage as memories began to swirl in my mind

"Hermosa." Wilmer kissed me passionately as I walked through the door to our apartment. I threw my arms around him and held him tightly.

"I missed you so much." i'd been gone for a week and a half, on a book signing tour, but all I could think about as I mindlessly signed copies was how much I couldn't wait to get back to him.

Quickly, I shook away the memory and glanced at Wilmer who had his head turned towards the stage, his jawline prominent. I licked my lips, remembering the feeling of his skin under my touch, the was his lips claimed every inch of me. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him one more time. Letting out a sigh I looked back at my lap, I'd lost the right to kiss him a long time ago.

"And now we'll hear from Wilmer Valderrama and about the impacts he's been through in his life through the people around him with mental illnesses." I looked up, surprised, as Wilmer stood and made his way to the podium.

"Hello, my name is Wilmer Valderrama, and although I myself do not have a mental disorder, it had impacted my life in nearly every single way." He looked over at as he spoke, neither of us looking away as he continued, "Six years ago I met someone who was unknowingly suffering, with bipolar disorder. This person, was the light of my life, even though she didn't see the worth she held. Needless to say, against all odds I feel completely and utterly in love with her. It didn't matter to me, that every morning when we woke up together I had to remind her to take her medication. It didn't matter to me that sometimes she didn't have the literal capability to get out of bed. It didn't matter to me that when I made dinner she had to sometimes force herself to eat it, and it didn't make a difference that I had to hold her for hours so she didn't go throw it up. It made no difference to me that every thursday she'd get up and at three o'clock drive into the other town to speak to a therapist. Mental illnesses doesn't define a person, nor should it define how we treat them. The only difference is that their brain sees and interprets things differently from the way we do. Many people see those with a mental illness as weak, but I see them as stronger than anybody I've ever known. I know that I wouldn't have the strength to get up and go through the day full of people judging me or watching me as though waiting for me to crack. A person's mental health is not a definition of their character, or their soul. It's simply a term to describe their lifestyle. I loved that person not out of pity but because of the soul they had on the inside. I've seen the passion, the kindness, and the love a person with mental illness is capable of showing. It makes me sad, and angry, that someone can't see past their conception of a mental disorder to acknowledge that. Thank you."

The audience clapped wildly as he walked back to his seat.

I smiled at him timidly, "That was an amazing speech."

Wilmer smiled back at me, " Every word of it was true."

We didn't speak again after that.

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Twitter: @Lovatic_Chica

-Rachel