The Healer

Every time I try to kill myself and survive, I buy the most expensive ring I can find and afford. Maybe it is mindless and I should think twice about it (about buying rings and committing suicide). I use these jewels as baits for my identity, which I tend to forget. When I don't recognize myself in the mirror, I look at the rings and remember. It reminds I froze, and still freeze, and will freeze. It reminds me it will take forever to build myself back. To trust myself again, to love myself again, to be myself again. So it's always with a husky voice that I ask the Seller for a ring, although I don't smoke, although I'm not sick (not like this). The Seller is still enchanted when I talk, and when they notice the bandages or the hospital's bracelet around my wrists, they say: "You are strong." I nod. I can only nod.

But oh Gods how frail I feel, in front of my deepest fears and my darkest nightmares and my heavier memories. I am so fragile I just can't survive. I prefer to swing between life and death, death and life. I prefer to paint my skin with scarlet patterns. I prefer to savor sleeping pills, when I freeze. I am the Child of the Snow when something reminds me of what happened. I am the Daughter of the Frost when I think of him. I am the Son of the Winter when he's here and I can't run away. In these moments of pure terror, I wish my skin was made of dragon's scales. I wish I couldn't feel anything. I wish I turned into ashes. I know it wouldn't be better, but I can't help longing for it with all my heart.

And a few days later, I come to see the Seller and buy a new ring. I'm just an overgrown child, unable to break the circle, unable to live my life the way I want, unable to achieve my dreams. I wish they wrote and sang about me. I wish I made it into the legend. I, so juvenile, wish I were glorious. I wish I were known because I don't know myself. I wish people were wild about me, because I hate myself. But I'm just a girl who spends too much time of her life seeking for death.

I ornament my fingers with rings because his hands must sink into oblivion. Because of what he did to me, I am a misfit in the mirror I look at. Yesterday I wanted to wash my brain with acid and forget everything. But I know it wouldn't have worked. Memories chilled my skin. Memories chilled my nights.. Memories chilled my past – it is my tragedy. I threw my heart away with a sling to avoid suffering, but it is not enough. As long as I avoid my pain, as long as I do not accept it, it will never be enough. The only thing I can do is tread on the tortuous path of change. The Seller told me I would meet someone there, who could cure me. They told me lies to give me hope. I am the Healer, and the Healer is me. The only thing I can do is tread on the tortuous path of change. Although it would be easier to buy rings again and again. The only thing I can do is tread on the tortuous path of change. Although it often feels like I treasure the suffering more than myself. The only thing I can do is tread on the tortuous path of change. Although what he did to me is what I think of when I look at my reflection. The only thing I can do is tread on the tortuous path of change. Although his ghost still terrifies me and his voice still terrifies me and his eyes still terrify me. Although I'm haunted.

But that is ancient, and I am new. That is old, and I am young. That belongs to the past, and I crave for a future. I am able to tread on the tortuous path of change. This morning when I woke up, I felt dizzy thinking about it. Even with rings around my fingers and my eyes, I am strong. The Seller is right. Walking away from him, from this, isn't being a coward. I am strong enough to enjoy living and one day I will. When I try very hard, silence isn't melodious anymore, and voices are. Sleeping pills aren't tasty anymore, and desserts are. Hands and lips aren't rough anymore. Roses smell like sweets and shine with the brightest red, when I try.

It's not so dark anymore. The Sun rises up earlier and earlier, gets down later and later. There is light. Winter is nearly over. Today, I ask the Seller not for a ring, but for a coat. I will no longer be cold. I will no longer freeze. The Seller takes me on a ride far from here, in a place where spring tickle my skin, and where sunsets are more precious than golden jewels. Where we are going, flowers smell like perfume even when I'm sad.

Of course I've been injured. Of course it hurts. But now, I have to take my chance. There is this ring in front of me, that I won't catch. I have to leave. I have to live. I have to love. I am grown and I am ready. I am not a child anymore. I am a woman, I am a man, I am myself. I take off all the rings. I wink at my reflection. The time is ripe.