Ribbons

1.7

"When I was younger" you began, I could hear the tremble in your voice.

"I was obsessed with ribbons. My mother would always take me shopping and we would search for any kind of ribbons. It was sort of our thing when we would run errands, find ribbons. I had so many and I would hang them from my cieling and it was just different colors and patterns dangling in my room."

You paused and I squeezed your hand reassuring you. You gave me a slight smile and continued.

"This continued for years until I was thirteen."

"My mom was diognosed with cancer."

"She died two weeks after my birthday."

I didn't know what to say, and you stopped for awhile too. You weren't crying, your face was blank no emotion present.

"After that I became very sad, and everyone thought it was going to be a temporary thing. Something that I would just get over.

Do they really think your mom dying is something you can just get over.

Years passed and the doctor told me I was depressed, but it wasn't like it was a shock. I knew when I was thirteen."

"I soon began to," your lip began to quiver and you shut your eyes tight. I pulled you closer to me and you layed your head on my shoulder. "hurt myself."

"Everytime I did, I would tear a ribbon down from my cieling and wrap it around my wrist.

Why? Because everytime I harmed myself I would want a piece of my mother to comfort me."

So the ribbons are a metaphor of my mom, they are colorful and cheery and beautiful just like she was.

And whenever I needed her the most, I would wrap them around my wrists so I can hold her close to me everyday."