a year apart

its February 2023 and youve fused with your bedsheet, only getting up at the gentle goading of your mom trying to cheer you up with sweets or outings to your favorite places.

its the second week of February 2023, and your eyelids are puffy like mosquito bites, inflammed with the force of at least two crying fits a day, but your cheeks are sunken in with the weight of your missing meals.

its the week after the worst weekend of your life, and you can feel your mind and body eroding away with every waking hour you spend staring at the ceiling, unable to stare at much more lest you think of memories that hurt harder.

its a random day in February, and you have to rush to the bathroom to expel your stomach's contents because you thought too hard about people who left you behind.

its February 2023, and you have to put on a brave face for some of the most important people in your life, pretend youre alright, pretend you're strong because you'll be fucking damned if you let people who arent worth it make you look weak in front of part of your soul.

and then its march 2023, and you lock February behind you, try to tell yourself it never happened, that its over and it cant hurt you anymore.

you reinvent yourself. you heal. you find peace. and this time, unlike the others, the people who left you behind come back for you and they apologize and make it right.

but then February 2024 comes around and its like the floodgates have opened again. nothings wrong this time. you're eating. you're doing things. this time youre not alone.

but your body still braces for impact. it still seeks the cushion of a mattress, the dull throb of hunger, the wetness of your eyes.

how do you deal? how do you heal something that shouldn't hurt anymore?