Her acrylic nails, a little overgrown and needing to be filled, painted metallic were ripped off by her teeth. The nails underneath a little bit weak, but still long, then bitten so they were sore.
Her makeup-less eyelashes wet where tears had managed to slowly flow through, even when she tried to stop them.
Her cheeks, damp by those same tears.
The corners of her mouth heavy and drawn down by the weight of her thoughts.
Her head slightly bowed, looking down, because although there was no one around to see her, she knew she was a mess.

Her head, full of thoughts, of confusion, of what if's, and what next's. Of 'What can I do differently?' and 'How can I help myself to get through whatever is coming next?'.
Her head, full of doubt, overthinking, doubting herself for feeling certain things and for thinking certain things.

Her heart, fluttering. Beating out of rhythm.
Her heart, building up protective layers, so as to not break, or at least to protect it as much as possible when it does.

Her tummy, full of butterflies. Anxious, petrified, butterflies. Making her feel sick.

Her eyes wake up, sore and red. Underneath, heavy showing a night of restless sleep. Of tears that switched on as soon as she woke up.

Her body, hoping everything she was overthinking was just a dream.
Her thoughts, worse than the day before.

Angry at herself for having doubts.
Angry at herself for being selfish.
Angry at herself for dreaming and hoping of better things.

Snowflakes fall outside.
All she thinks about is going out there, not wrapped up, to feel the piercing cold through her skin.
Into her blood.
Into her head.
Into her heart.
Into her stomach.
To freeze it all.
To replace the pain with something new.


I saw a post on LinkedIn recently that really hit home to me. It was a lady talking about her two grown up sons, one who lives away from hom...