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Today, I woke up and looked you in the eyes. You stared back at me, and I recognized your battered face and scarred hands from all the times we have fought. You stroked my hair and I let you. I thought it felt good to be stroked. Nobody ever touches me. Touch is as hideous the thought of crawling under the covers with a stranger—my skin cannot accept your touch. Has anyone ever told you that your hands are beautiful from afar? That you taste of delight, and you warm my soul.
But the compliments I have for you can only go so far. I am comfortable with you yet will never be comfortable with you. When you are not walking beside me, I think about when you will come back. This afternoon Joy led me by the hands, and she spoke softly to convince me she would not let you return. When I heard your voice, I turned as a child to their parent, and joy vanished. Depression, you have made me so comfortable with your pain that I no longer know how to live without you.
Sometimes it is hard. I cannot experience life without you. You are my closest companion, you are always there for me. You are that guest who I told never to come back, but when you open my door I am too exhausted to guide you back out. So, we hang out, like friends, but our friendship is a deal I made with my soul to prevent being further hurt by you. Perhaps accepting you in my reality is better than losing to you.
I was told that if I hit rock bottom life will only get better. I shared with you my happiness that I was going to be okay, and you shrugged and kissed me, saying, “Darling, how can you live without me? We have been close for years; your life is not going to get better based upon your false hopes.” I was convinced. My life was not going to get better. I could not change the way you clung to me because when I push you away I still think about you.
Did I tell you about earlier when my dear friend asked me how I was? And I told her that I was doing awesome! I felt so brave because of you. I am so strong that I do not need to share my pain.
I am so worthless that nobody will care about my pain.
Remember that time I was vacuuming, and then you put weights on my arms and legs and kept telling me if I kept vacuuming at that same pace I would never be finished on time. You told me I was useless and that I might as well not even clean my house if I was not going to do a decent job. You also mentioned that I have no business trying to keep a house clean that I cannot even pay the bills on, and that if I just stopped spending so much time eating maybe I would have the energy and time to work harder.
Someday, my friend, I will break up with you. I will tell you to never come back and lock all my doors and take away the keys I gave you. I will demand you stop ruining my life, my past, my present, and my future.
Oh, I just noticed you walked in. I guess I will end this letter now and get in the shower so that you can tell me about my day. I am sorry, I know I haven’t brushed my hair and I look like a wreck. It has only been 30 minutes since we last talked, but you never leave me alone for too long. Thank you for not slamming the door as loud behind you this time.