Who Will Fix Me Now?

Chapter 3: My Angel

I mentioned friends. Yeah, I have some really good life companions. Though saviours is a more accurate way to describe them. More appropriate. One saviour in particular. One who always brings sunshine, one who clears away the darkest of days, the greyest of skies and brings about joy. Who digs deep and discovers the little part of my true self left, hidden deep inside to avoid more hurt, more criticism. Yet I don't reach out. I can't. To tarnish such an angel with my darkness would be selfish. It would be abhorrent. It would be disgusting. To disturb them and to unload my burdens upon their lives would be selfish. So I sat. I sat alone and succumbed to the familiar numbness of denial. The familiarity of assuring those around me that I'm fine. That nothing is happening though I'm crumbling and wearing away from the inside and my mind is screaming at me. Unpleasantries are familiar nicknames for myself, I revert to detesting myself and staying hidden. I Hide the physical evidence with long sleeves and fluffy jumpers. I wear a facade of happiness and hope one day that it will transform into the real thing. But slowly, the cracks start showing. My angel who knows me so well notices. Knows my traits, weaknesses, signs and the state of my mind. My angel tries so hard to patch up those gaping holes left behind by your wreckingball of ignorance. Yet, the plasters are miniscule compared to the damaged. Yet when my angel smiles and cracks a joke, when they hug me and tell me it'll be alright, a tiny part of me latches onto that. A tiny part of me longs for her to be right. A tiny part of me starts to believe it can. Slowly but surely, it starts to. Slowly but surely, the holes get a bit smaller.