Jessica Grayson has struggled with body dysmorphia and bullying for most of her life. And when she believes she has finally turned things around for herself, she is betrayed and made fun of by her boyfriend and close friends, which sends her into a...
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Jessica
I somehow make it home. But I do not explain what happened to my worried mother. I only let her know that Liam and I broke up. For real this time. Forever this time. Then I lock myself in my room, and I barely eat, barely speak, barely breathe. I feel simultaneously dead and alive. Alive only because you have to be to feel this kind of pain. It still feels like I'm in a dream, or rather, a nightmare where all my worst fears have materialized and morphed into something catastrophic.
My phone rings, and rings, and rings. I have no energy to turn it off. I don't even put it on silent. I don't glance at it to find out who is calling because it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.
I sob like I am grieving because I am. I cry for every dream I've ever dreamt. For every possibility I considered. For every scenario I imagined. For daring to hope. For loving someone more than I love myself. For what we could have been. For a future, I'll never get to have. The devastation of having everything I've pictured suddenly ripped away is shocking in its ferocity. I feel like the sun will never rise again.
It's pure, utter pain. I don't think I will put my faith in something or someone ever again. I am so tired of disappointments. So tired of hoping and wishing, tired of seeking love, seeking approval, seeking— something.
I sob and sob until I am too exhausted to continue, and my throat is so scratchy it hurts to breathe.
Then I fall asleep, only for a few minutes. And I dream that Liam and I are in New York, living together, happy. He kisses me and tells me he'll never let me go. Then some horrible instinct tells me it's all a lie, and I jolt awake. Then I cry. Because for a few minutes, I was happy, and I know I'll never feel happiness like that again in my waking hours.
Over and over again, it happens. My mind tortures me with dreams of Liam. Pleasant dreams where we are happy and together, blissfully ignorant that something horrible has happened back in reality. I think this is my brain's way of coping because this loss is too much to bear. But when I awake, the wound opens just a little further, the pain intensifying with every passing second. And at some point during the very long night, for a horrible, helpless second, I wonder if living is worth it at all. And the thought scares me more than anything ever has.
But then dawn breaks, a faint blue light dances on my carpet and slowly fills the room. I tell myself, I'll be okay, even though I don't believe it.
Liam
It took everything in me not to drive over to her house last night. I didn't want to make things worse. I knew she needed time, and it is the least I could give her. I didn't sleep at all. It felt like every second stretched into eternity. I think I have paced the entire house at least a hundred times just to give myself something to do. It was no doubt the worst night of my life, and I have had some pretty terrible ones in my day.
