ăYou're strong. You can push through.ăă
đŤfrom your F/O ⢠to you.đŤ
I can see it on your face. Whether or not you try to hide it doesn't matter. I know you better than you know yourself, sometimes. I know, I know. Sometimes. Well, this is sometimes.
Was it something about the last few days? Did something happen, love?
Or maybe it was the end of year? The stress of the holidays? Family? Friends? Work? School?
Come here. Rest your head on my shoulder. Imagine for a second, that all those terrible thoughts which have long outstayed their welcome in your head, coming out from your temple. Into me. Don't worry, love. I can handle them. Let me take them from you for a second. Now you can breathe.
I know how horrible this all feels.
You're worried. You're worried about getting worse... and about getting better. And about everything else on earth simultaneously. It's difficult to carry so many things all the time. Even the toughest fighter buckles once in a while.
None of this is your fault, love. It's never going to be your fault, your problem, your incompetence.
I don't like seeing you like this, dear. Because you're so much more than this.
You're strong. Incredibly strong. You're beautiful. You could do anything if you put your heart to it.
Don't let this make you feel weak, don't let it convince you that this is what you are in your deepest layer. You know it isn't true - Or, if you can't remember that right now, I know it isn't true. And I'll tell you again and again until you believe it.
Say it back to me. That you're strong. That you're incredibly intelligent. You're one of a kind.
You're beautiful. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen.
And you can make it through this. Say it to me, love. We can make it through this.
You're not troubling me with this, love. I promise you aren't smothering me, or burdening me. This is what I'm here for.
Because I love you. I love you so much. I do - I can swear on my life.
Can you show me where you hurt yourself? If you don't want to, that's completely alright. But if you would like... I could help massage it. Antiseptic cream is probably a good idea.
I hate to see you hurt, love. I hate that you have to fight all kinds of hurt, all the time. I hate that this was the only way to make some things better, to make some things disappear.
But I'm here. Look at me, please? I'm here. Right here, with you.
So... close your eyes and breathe. Did you clean the wounds? Bandage them? Good. Stay here with me, picture yourself handing me a big, heavy backpack, full of all your pain and anxiety and responsibilities. I'll take that, thank you.
Now, do you want to watch a movie? Or cuddle? Or have a nice meal? I'll cook. You, love, on the other hand... Take a break. You've earned it.
[Author's Note: From my notes app, to your tumblr page for your enjoyment! This was cathartic to write as someone who recently... kind of... maybe... relapsed. But I'll get better. You'll get better too. We'll get better together. To anyone reading this to the end - thank you. And I love you.]