𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲 | ˢʰᵒʳᵗ⁻ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ✓

18

18.

One day, you told me that you had to go somewhere for some work, and that we wouldn't be able to meet for a few days.

Of course, I was upset with the thought that I wouldn't be able to see you, but you profusely promised that you would come back with a gift for me, so I didn't feel as bad.

Obviously, I missed you, but those couple of days weren't as bad as I had thought they would be.

This may sound strange but, I gained strength solely from thinking about you; thinking about you, about all the times we had met and talked, about the fact that I would soon be meeting you again.

They all gave me strength to get through the days without you by my side.

I still remember how excited I was when you had sent me a message, saying that you had come back, and that you would be waiting for me in the park with my gift at midnight.

I wanted to reply back, saying that you didn't have to get me a gift, but I would totally lying if I said that I didn't want you to get me a gift.

That night, thirty minutes before midnight, I started getting ready, but, for the first time in forever, I didn't cover the blemishes on my face with makeup.

They were growing on me, and I had, in fact, even named a few of my pimples. Talk about self-love.

"I used to suffocate you with all that concealer, didn't I, Bob?" I had asked the persistent pimple on my forehead. The name wasn't the best one out there, but, at that time, the pimple had definitely looked like a Bob.

A minute later, I started giggling hysterically at myself. What was I doing, naming and talking to a pimple on my face? I felt so silly. I couldn't recognise myself.

Was the person smiling goofily in the mirror really the same person who would cry and frown all the time, for everything?

I had changed drastically, and it was a good type of change.

All thanks to you, my love. I was starting to love each and every part of myself, because of you, and I can't thank you enough for that.

x x x