I woke up at 6:24 this morning. No alarm, just woke up, wide awake. That never happens. I got up, started to do my makeup. Trying to cover up what is impossible to cover. I’m struggling with my eyebrow, I never manage to draw it like my other one. Sometimes I just want to shave the one I have off so at least they will look a like. Perfection- imagination.
I open my closet, there’s a lot of shit in there. Why do I have so much? I don’t even need it. But hey, I do anything I can to make myself feel better. For the first time in a while I consciously put on all black, any other day it just happens. But today it’s been six months since the worst day of my life. Six months of tears, pain and ”I can’t take this anymore”. But after I cried, I laughed. When I was in pain, I screamed my way through it. And when i thought I couldn’t take this anymore, somebody was always there to pick me up. Whether it was a mother, a brother, a friend, a song, a picture or a memory, it was there to make me feel better, and it always did.
Today I’m thankful and today I’m sad. Six months have never passed so quickly or so slowly. After a long day in school and a couple of hours at work I had some time over. The graveyard was dark and I lit the only candle in the memorial lane. For the thirteen young women who wasn’t as lucky as I was, for their families, friends. My thoughts are with you.
Montserrat, february 2016.