The Coldest Winter

by Brittainy C. Cherry

I love you always. And then a little bit more after that. Find me in the sunrises. I’ll always be there, waiting to shine on you.

You noticed that in people when you were hurting yourself—how their pain mirrored your own.

“No offense—” I started. “You’re about to be offensive—” “I said no offense.” “That’s what people say before they are about to be offensive. But continue.”

I moved through life as if I were a normal person, but it was in the quiet parts of me where the depression thrived. I only felt a crippling sadness or a complete indifference to everyone and everything around me.

It wasn’t her real smile. I’d seen her real smile. It was a beautiful one. Innocent. Rare. It wasn’t every day you saw someone’s real smile.

Grief was a complex creature. One day, you were sad, and the next day filled you with rage. On rare occasions, you’d be both. So aggressively angry, so depressingly sad.

“I’m learning that time passing doesn’t make it easier. Sometimes it just makes the grief quieter.”

That was the thing about grief—it didn’t discriminate. It simply made everyone drown.

“What are you doing, Star?” I whispered. “Sharing a few of my scars to make you feel safe enough to share your own.

“I’m sorry for being so emotional that I cry at freaking sunrises.” “Don’t be,” I said, echoing her words. “I like that about you.” She chuckled. “That I cry over sunrises?” “No.” I shook my head. “That you feel. I like that you feel things so deeply.” It made me want to feel things, too.

Milo tasted like promises he couldn’t keep. Like a promise of tomorrow when we only had today.

“I just didn’t think I’d be able to feel happy again.” And just like that, my heart slowly began to become his.

“Well, consider how the choice feels in your body before you overthink. Does it feel good and safe?” Yes, yes… He continued. “If it does, it’s probably the right option. Even if it looks wrong to the world.”

“The memories that seem so small and minuscule. It’s as if you almost forgot they existed until they show up again and knock you backward.”

I mourned the man he once was and the man he’d become. I regretted our missed opportunities to heal together. I mourned the pain that both of us had suffered.

It’s never too late to change the life you’re living. It’s the bravest thing you can do.

Life is tough. It takes courage to ask for help.”

Who told you that those who are depressed are not deserving of love?”