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forty-two:: when you hold your future in your hands.

[Will; I'm Yours by Alessia Cara]
Comment guys, reader engagement is so cool and I really thought you would like this chapter. xx

FORTY-TWO: when you hold your future in your hands.

This was one of those days.

It'd been a week of studying for final exams and Paul crashing at mine each night after helping me study. Apparently he wasn't just skilled at art, he was also amazing in math and I was sure that I'd get at least a B on my exam.

Although, I'd fallen asleep ecstatic and curled in his arms, I'd woke up in the morning, my head was killing me and Paul wasn't there. Rubbing at the sides, I reached in my bedside table for my aspirin and antidepressants before checking my phone. I couldn't even force a smile even when I'd seen Paul and I on my home screen, dismissing a text from him because I wouldn't be able to respond with how blurry my vision was and how bad my head was pounding. He'd messaged me, a while back presumably, about going to work and I'd been overthinking about that simple sentiment.

Looking over the picture again, I recalled the feeling of him next to me, how he'd jumped on my back and kissed at my cheek happily after my final soccer game. The guys on the team either didn't care or passed it off as a joke but I could see a few odd looks as I laughed and carried my boyfriend back to the car. There was a smile on my face that couldn't ever be wiped away. Rilee had caught it on camera and it had to be my favorite picture ever, both loves of my life in one.

And even looking at that didn't make me feel any better only a little upset and insanely embarrassed for not being as happy as I was back then. Locking my phone, I'd thrown it carelessly back onto my pillows and looked down at the pills in my hand, solemnly. My chest felt empty that morning, lonely sitting on top of me and self-hate coming to the surface when I'd rose from my bed and went to the bathroom to retrieve water for my meds and then I'd retreat back to my bed.

All thoughts of just going back to sleep and being okay were pushed aside when I'd downed the capsules and stood in front of my mirror.

I had moderate acne, it'd been popping up in spots since I'd started taking my medication, and Proactive wasn't something I wanted to go through again. Using my breakout care made me think of my mother, everything made me think of my mother but even more that day, I felt like cleaning my skin would lead to an emotional breakdown.

Sighing, I assessed my reflection, dark circles weighing on my eyes like the accumulation of all my baggage. I hadn't gotten much sleep when Paul wasn't there, was that too needy? That I couldn't sleep away from him or else I'd wake up every hour and stare at the ceiling for absolutely no reason at all? And I tried, I really did try to get sleep jut as I really did try to see my old self in the mirror. I didn't know who I was anymore nor did I recognize the reflection. My eyes looked dead, no longer the green that resembled my father but an ashy moss color, drained of all energy.

I looked dead in all. Lifting at the hem of my shirt, I tried not to pay attention to how much I hated mysel- my body but my eyes wouldn't stray away from the mirror and then I was standing there in only boxers, scrutinizing myself. I was ugly.

Ugly and fat and I looked like death.

Swallowing slowly, I clenched my fist after I'd pulled my shirt off, slight sting to the skin as my nails had dug in. My breathing was shallow as I squeezed my eyes tight and tried to slow my breaths, a trick my therapist had taught me. Think of things you enjoy:  friends... soccer, Paul, watching sports documentaries with my boyfriend, Paul, pretending to be interested. Kissing Paul, loving Paul, I enjoyed Paul.