Yesterday was an anxiety-ridden, eating-disorder-battling kind of day for me. I’ll spare you the story of how I essentially threw a dinosaur-sized fit for half of the day and just say that it sucked more than balls.
When I finally got home, I was reeling. I was angry and uncomfortable and ready to cry. I walked into the bedroom ready to throw myself on the bed and stare at the ceiling until the feeling dissolved.
Beside our bed I keep my favourite pair of jeans that used to fit me. Sometimes those jeans are an inspiration. Sometimes just the sight of those jeans makes it hard to function. Guess which kind of day yesterday was.
I couldn’t see the jeans as clearly though, because The Prince had set a little whiteboard on top of them. This is the whiteboard that I usually write song lyrics on just for kicks and then leave around the apartment. The current lyric is “This Isn’t Everything You Are”. It’s a Snow Patrol song.
And there it was on top of those fucking jeans. This isn’t everything you are.
I sat there for a while and just looked at it, wondering if maybe he left it there by mistake.
When The Prince got home last night, I asked him about it.
“I left it there on purpose because it’s true.”
“No, I am so fucked up.”
“Come here. Just breathe. Breathe, sweetie. You’re okay. I love you.”