This Winter

by Alice Oseman

“I don’t want people’s attention, that’s the f—that’s the problem.”

“Trying your best? What d’you want, a fucking congratulations certificate?”

“Half the time you refuse to even acknowledge that I have a fucking mental illness, and the other half you try as hard as possible to make me feel like I’m the last person you ever wanted as a child!”

I’m quite aware that it’s my fault that my family are annoyed with me, so I guess the best way to sort that out is to just go away completely. I’m usually in favor of “sorting things out” when I have a problem, but I think this is one of those things that I just can’t fix. There’ve been a lot of things like that lately.

I know a lot of people think teenage relationships don’t last, or they’re not as “deep” as adult relationships. But me and Nick? I think we’ve got something different. Something great.

“I just … wanted to have a nice day,” I say, and I feel myself welling up again. “Okay,” he says, slinging an arm round my shoulders and walking me out of his room, then kissing me on the top of the head. “Let’s do that, then.”

When people know you’re mentally ill, most people either want to ignore it completely or they treat you like you’re strange, scary, or fascinating. Very few people are actually good at the middle ground. The middle ground isn’t hard. It’s just being there. Being helpful, if help is needed. Being understanding, even if they don’t understand everything.

“I think sometimes you’re so scared of being a burden that it makes you terrified to ask for help. But you have lots of people around you that would be there for you, if you opened up about what help you need.”

I look up at him. I love him. God, I love my boyfriend.