The Bitch Is Back

My life support machine has been switched off. I have lost a limb. I have been dumped. I am something to be proud of; I have achieved. I have, at the same time, failed. I have cried since 1.06pm Wednesday. I am missed. I am thought about. I have lost a parent, a friend, the person who, in my morbid imagination, would have eulogised when I killed myself. I am three fucking years older. Five years younger. I have lines on my face that weren't there when I started. A thicker waist. More love; less love. More tears; fewer scars. I am healing outside, the inside, well, that's only just beginning. I am building and burning bridges in the same breath. I am fucked up but I am fixed.

"Alison... I see you. You are not just crazy, and you are not just sad. I can see you"

But I will never see you again. And oh, God. It burns. In the pit of my stomach there is fire and ice. Save me.