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She delivers her story with no emotion, something I’m not used to but find that I prefer. I realize I don’t want the sugar-coated version or the watered-down one. I want cold hard truths and realities that are too close for comfort. I need to know that everybody has an ugly side, because the happy ever after feels so fucking out of reach, I can’t relate.
“The truth is, there is no magic fix,” she says. “And the definition of happy is different for everyone. Do I believe being sober will make you happier? Controversial take? No, I don’t. But do I believe that your addiction is robbing you of all the ways you could be happy? Absolutely.”
I didn’t know I was capable of falling for a guy, and I didn’t know I could fall so fast. I’m so far from the untouchable person I thought I was. Sitting in this hospital, I’m closer to breakable than I’ve been in a really long time.
It always seems like an expectation that in order to move forward, you need to split yourself open and let yourself bleed for others to acknowledge your suffering.
It never ceases to amaze me how easy it is for life to pick right back up after tragedy. Your heart could break. Your life could change. Your dad could die. And yet everything just keeps on going.
He’s breathtaking when he smiles, and the ability to bear witness to it is the only thing that soothes the sting of knowing I’ll never know what his laugh sounds like.
But then the days end and the nights are ours, and the only thing that matters is the three of us holding each other, letting our deepest, darkest secrets flow in the dark and helping each other let go of them in the light.
Where Lennox’s mouth gave, Samuel’s mouth takes, and I will forever be content to be whatever they need me to be.
There is something to be said about being around people who have lived the same experiences as you. It’s why people like Jenika exist and groups like Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous have such high success rates. There is power and positivity in numbers. But we often forget that as we trudge through our everyday struggles, that our experiences are not solitary or unique. Somewhere else in the world, someone else had that exact same thought, cried for that exact same reason, and wanted to give up on life the same number of times as you.
The whole being with men thing is definitely new and different, but it also isn’t a point of contention. I couldn’t care less that Rhys and Lennox are men; I care about the way we treat each other. I care about the way we support one another. I care about the way being with them makes me feel and how being with me makes them feel.
The best thing about our friendship is that being deaf is the least interesting thing about the both of us.
After my dad died, we kind of fell into this understanding where you didn’t leave any stone unturned when it came to the ones you loved. You didn’t make decisions based on assumptions and you always asked for clarification when needed. People find it annoying. People often push you away. But later on, you learn that the same people really just want you to stay, want you to care, want you to love them, they just don’t know how to ask.
The truth is, I can be both people, the one I’m learning to love and the one I hate, and still want more. Still. Deserve. More.
I am loved unconditionally. I am loved more for every flaw I have. I am loved for my mistakes, and I am loved for my mishaps. I am loved for my sins and my scars. They love me and all my imperfections. For some, it’s till death do us part. For others, it’s through sickness and health For us, it is to hell and back.
