Dear Ana

by I.I.E.

It wasn’t cute when I had to brush my teeth for double the amount of time just to make up for my lack of oral hygiene the night before. It wasn’t quirky when I could barely bring myself to scrub away the grime left over from all the food and bacteria in my mouth before it rotted my gums. It wasn’t special when I could scarcely get myself to take a shower even when it’d been a week since the last one, and my hair was a knotted bird's nest hidden under naturally hectic curls and a crap ton of coconut scented dry shampoo.

I've never seen depression described as accurately as this. I feel seen. (i know no one will see this, that's the only reason I'm bothering to write this.)

I rearranged my cold features into a smile, just like I practiced, and swiped my key card against the door. I waved at the janitor who was mopping the hallway. I asked Gwen about her daughter’s dance recital and cooed as Helen showed me pictures of her grandson taking his first steps. Nobody ever noticed.

“There’s so much I wish I could say, but I don’t know how to, because no one has ever asked. No one ever wanted to know about my pain and now...the words are poison on my tongue, Noah. The memories are acid in my brain and I––” I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “Nothing good ever came from talking, so I just stayed quiet. Now I only know how to be silent.”

“I didn’t know you were religious.” “I’m not,” he replied. “I wasn’t. But when I look at you...I can’t help but feel like our souls somehow sprouted from the same seed. You are the sunshine that my roots need in order to grow. You are the water that my core needs in order to survive, Maya, and I’m not going to let anything or anyone take you away from me.” He closed his eyes tightly and let out a shaky breath. “I was never a religious man, but I swear, when I think about you––” his voice cracked “––I get so extremely overwhelmed that you’re real and that you’re mine, and all I want to do is get onto my knees and thank God for bringing you into my life.”