You owe me a dance.

Trigger warning: Eating disorders, self-harm, death, holocaust mention.

Also, English it's not my first language

“Dear love…

Today it's been a year since our gazes touched for the very first time, I assume you haven't forgotten about it. As it's our special day, I'm here to unburden my heart and narrate stuff you already know mixed in with the soft bomb that is my deepest darkest secrets. 

I have always thought I was a broken soul, with a ripped-apart heart and a fragmented mind. You could think it's an excruciatingly theatrical comment, but no matter how hard I tried to combat those stabs to my self-esteem, they were inescapable. 

When I have to explain this “thesis” to people, I'll most likely start talking about my “ripped apart heart” since it is the one individual's discern without freaking out that much: Love does not only apply to partners, it also involves friends, family, and my biggest adversary: self-love. Picture a ten-year-old girl crying because her classmates were skinnier than her, then twelve-year-old starting diets she saw online, after that, visualize a thirteen-year-old on the edge of death because of her low weight, now jump in time and see this once almost a corpse of woman at the age of sixteen hospitalized of anorexia, now think of a twenty-year-old female struggling to continue fighting an eating disorder, finally, speaking candidly, the face behind that story belongs to me; this is my story. I destroyed my own heart for the gratification of being able to wrap my fingers around my wrist. At this rate, I had hoped the misfortune would lessen in severity, resulting in some semblance of balance within the scale of recovery. Sadly, not long after being hospitalized, my parents parted their paths apart - a fancy way of saying divorce - and now what was previously a joyful marriage, has been reduced to small interactions between a pair of strangers, that had once shared what was thought to be infinite love. So to conclude, after I shattered my metabolism, my household shattered itself and all that together ripped my heart.

“Fragmented mind” is my way of referring to my intrusive thoughts. People say it's not that atypical until I tell them my brain has made me think I wish to fuck children. Or unalive someone. Or cut myself. Or maybe more ordinary stuff like eating exactly eleven pieces of chocolate unless I want my best friend to die. I deduce - and my specialist has told me - it's just OCD and nothing related to my actual rational ideas, nevertheless, it makes me see myself as a monster. What average human being with a decent encephalon would believe that? No one, so I just assume it's me who is the problem. 

Lastly “broken soul”. As far as I can remember, stargazing is my number one hobby. Yes, the universe is something pretty to stare at, yet, that's not the reason I do it. My actual motive is because I have never felt part of this planet, not because of my personality, or interests, but as a result of something intrinsic within me. For example, when I cry my eyes out, the only phrase that dances in my mind are “take me home” as if some outlandish alien civilization was on its way to salvage me. My soul was not fabricated upon this asteroid we all earth, so something in me will always be oblivious. 

In addition to this whole peculiarity and depression thing, love stories in tv shows and books made me believe it was someone else's duty to fix something they didn't break, like me, for instance. So, I grew to trust in the fate that a person out there will come to my rescue - not the aliens this time - therefore my only job was to wait in pain and dissociation in expectation of some light appearing in my world of chaos. That's the main reason I was so confused as to why I felt so grateful the day you “left” me. 

I can envision that day we met as if it was a lucid dream I don't want to wake up from. I'm pretty sure you can do that too but let me tell the story once more so my lips can taste our tale again. It was the last Monday of Autumn and you entered the book store I worked in. The man I saw was tall, had curly dirty blonde hair, was wearing a silly frog ring, he had circular silver glasses that highlighted his blue eyes, and he was wearing a hoodie of the Arctic Monkeys I immediately decided would end up in my closet. You stopped at the holocaust section, which I thought was somewhat morbidly amusing since you embodied the Aryan race, but no matter how much I desired to go and chat with you, I immediately assumed you would never lay eyes on me with the attraction I did for you. To my surprise, you were the one who talked to me, perhaps because you were buying a book and I was the cashier. 

- Hey - Your voice was comfortable like a hug that shuddered my body

- Hi.

- How much for this book?

- It's funny you want to buy a book about murdering Jews when you literally look like Hitler's dream body - Sorry I had to make my joke.

- You got me, I'm here to learn all about the holocaust so I can make a better plan than my ancestors did.

- Sure thing, but times had changed, now you have to kill the feminist too, they are a terrible plague.

- Thanks for the advice, but they were already number one on my list. 

- Good luck with your plan, I'll be sixteen dollars

- How about I pay two dollars more and get your phone number written on the book's cover?

That was the exact second my heart dropped to my feet and made me almost unable to keep my legs straight. 

Although our first interaction was lowkey flirting, friendship was the first gift you gave me. We went to some restaurants a couple of times, I felt safe eating around you, we would have late night talks on the roof of my house, we went stargazing on a meteor shower night, you called me to tell me about your day and I would text you every time it rained; you loved the rain. During our honeymoon phase, I quit self-harm, for the first time in years. I was too busy falling for you to focus on turning my bandages red; that didn't last long.

It was weird, notwithstanding I was awaiting prince charming, I was unable to see love in someone's eyes when they looked at me, even if their eyes were full of adoration, for me they were just confused or amused with an idea of me that didn't exist. So every time you told me I was pretty, smart, funny, or kind, I felt like I was scamming you. That's when my new dilemma started. I needed to be skinny for you, I needed to be smarter for you, I needed to be better just for you. So in a blink of an eye, without any of us realizing - or that's what I thought - I was eating less, studying harder, training more, and killing myself once again. 

For me, I was doing a prodigious work hiding my shadow from your brightness, so you can imagine my surprise when you decided to blurt out the truth in your mind. It was a full moon on a Friday night when Florida was almost reaching spring. You told me that morning that we would go eat at a McDonald's but I had to be dressed as if I were going to see the queen of England. So I chose to not eat that day and grabbed my favorite black dress that I hadn't worn for a long time since it revealed everything that I was desperately trying to cover, but for some reason, I finally thought I was skinny enough to wear it, just for you. You picked me up with roses and a smile but as soon as you looked at me your grin faded away, I knew what you were thinking, I looked like a skeleton.

Dinner - if you can call fast food that - was nice, you knew that I struggled to eat some foods so you held my hand to accompany every bite I took. It's almost impossible to think of something you didn't know about me at that point. Then we went outside, and as if it was the universe's desire to unite us even more, it was raining. You didn't hesitate to grab my waist and drive my body to the middle of the street so we could dance together. It's terrifying how realistic this feels as I write; I'm still able to feel the memory: Your strong but delicate right hand was on an adventure all over my figure, meanwhile, your left hand was grabbing mine, my head was sleeping on your chest that was pumping faster than the fall of the rain, your lips were humming “Lover” by Taylor Swift but my only thought was to stop them and press them against mine. You read my mind and your body proved it, you gently moved both of your hands to the sides of my face and smoothly reduced the space between our mouths to end it completely with a kiss. It was slow but passionate, even so, the thing I recall the most is how for those couple of seconds I believe my plan has succeeded, you were mine, and I was sick enough for you to love me. When your face was away from my complexion, I was still floating in the sky until your words hit my flight. 

- I'm in love with you. You have the most wholesome soul, complete heart, and beautiful mind I've ever had the pleasure to follow. But I won't be with you as a partner because you are unable to see what I see. I'm capable of looking at the dimness in you, and it's screaming to be freed from itself, but it's not my labor nor anyone else to end it. You are the only one with sufficient power to wreck the darkness and make it as bright as the stars. It's unbelievable how ravishing you are so I'm sure you will love yourself in no time, but that journey is yours and yours only. I don't want you to think I'll leave, cause I won't. I'm going to stay here for you, every single day, and I swear the moment you tell me you treasure yourself the same way you value other people, we are going to dance in the rain, I'm going to ask you to be my girlfriend and we will kiss once again. I promise. 

I was sobbing. I wanted to be furious and devastated. But I wasn't, you had just taught me what real devotion looks like.

- Thank you - I whispered.

Ever since that day things improved. I started therapy, I began to see my hobbies with affection and not as a requirement to be productive, my grades at university got better, I was more sociable, I allowed myself to rest, I ordered every food I once feared, and I finally started to see myself as a human and not a slave of my disorders, plus just as you promised, you were there to accompany me. 

Until you weren't. 

It was two am when my phone rang. It was your mom, she knew everything about us. She was crying harder than I’d ever heard someone mourning. You died in a car accident when you were heading back from college. Ironically, the rain in the street caused the car to roll over. I can't phrase the pain my whole volume felt. I could barely breathe. I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve to leave that soon, the world needed more time of your existence and so did I. 

Weeks passed and I was not able to exit my room. You were the only thing in my mind and every time I thought of our palpable love, another piece of my heart would fall to the fertile grass with no bloom in reward. One day, your dad was looking through your properties and told me he found something that was meant to be mine. It was the Arctic Monkeys hoodie that had a post-it note on it:

“Congratulations on being ready my dear girlfriend”

You already knew I was going to be okay, you never doubted me. 

Boyfriend, It's been months since I last saw you, and that amount will only grow till we reunite in the afterlife, but I'm finally prepared, therefore, get ready, I'm in front of your grave on a rainy day with “Lover” playing in the background. You owe me a dance.”