floating | ✓

39| wounds

Previously: Gwen met Oliver at school. Told him to stay away. Her mother told her, Oliver came to her house to find her. Gwen struggled to fight with her demons. But then she decided to keep fighting. She decided she could always do better.

“Thantphobia (n.) -The phobia of losing someone you love.”

- Sent by crimsonblackTJ

39| wounds

I get home and I am really hungry. I open the fridge and take out two eggs to make an omelette for myself. I toast two pieces of bread and make a cup of coffee.

I am devouring my breakfast when Mom walks in.

“Mhm, the kitchen smells so good,” Mom says in a sleepy voice. I laugh genuinely.

“What are you doing up so early?” Mom asks, rubbing her eyes. It’s six-fifty in the morning, and I am eating breakfast like a pig.

“I went for a run, and I am hungry,” I say, shoving in a toast.

“Since when do you run?” Mom says, raising an eyebrow. She is really surprised.

I never go for a run. Okay, I get that Mom.

“Since today,” I reply, eating my omelette.

“Alright.” Mom makes coffee for herself and sits down opposite of me. She scans my face.

“You want to say something?” I ask, looking down at my food.

Mom shakes her head as she sips her coffee. Then she finally says, “You didn’t sleep last night, did you?”

I stop eating and stare in front of me. Then I look at her.

Mom sighs, “Come here.”

I go near my mom as she stands up and hugs me, “It’s gonna be okay, honey.”

“I know,” I say, hugging her back.

When I lean back, Mom looks at me and says, “You know when you were born, you were this little girl with big eyes staring up at everyone. Usually babies cry a lot, but you, you would just look at people, as if trying to figure everything out.”

“Really?” I say.

“Yeah. You grandfather was telling everyone that some day you would grow up as a smart young lady. He was looking down at you. You were in his arms staring up at him.”

I smile a little.

“You know what you did next?” Mom asks. She chuckles.

“Please let it not be what I think it is,” I say.

“You threw up,” Mom says. She can't stop laughing.

“Why is it always me throwing up? God.” I say as I facepalm.

Mom shakes her head. I roll my eyes and go back to my chair. I finish my breakfast.

I go to my room. I take out the scrunchy that holds my ponytail together. I stare at my face.

I am okay.

I brush my hair, slowly and gently. It’s longer than I would want it to be. Maybe I will cut it. After I am done with my hair, I go to the washroom. I fill up the tub so I can take a bath.

After having a bath, I look at my nail polish supplies. I want black. I need that color.

Maybe I don’t. So I try a nude shade instead.