“Writing is your escape. You should do that to help you heal” she told me.
But every time my ink meets the paper, the words dry inside my brain.
How can I explain how I feel to paper when I can’t even explain it to myself?
How do I describe the indescribable hurt that courses through my being more than my own blood?
Do I write about how I eat just to keep my family happy more than I do for my own survival?
Do I write about how I’m on a ongoing fight with my demons and every day I wanna lose?
Do I write about how lonely it is?
Do I write about how every day I’m scared to think of the future because the future is where she is supposed to be?
Yes.
Yes, because if she was here, you would dream of your future still.
Yes, because for 9 months she was your partner in your belly and it is lonely without her.
Yes, because every fight you win against your demons is another tally mark for your angel baby to add up.
Yes, because even though your avoiding foods that remind you of your cravings with her, at least you’re trying to survive still.
And even though sadness is doing laps in your system, don’t forget she helped To make you happier than you would have ever thought possible.
So write.