I lit the candles in my bedroom. My date was arriving soon. I am never prepared when my date comes but tonight, I was so sure my date would show up and this time, I want to make things perfect.
I call my date ‘Pink’. Always so soft on my skin yet always grips me by the neck at every opportunity. Isn’t that ironic? Pink is not the aggressive type because we have probably had the discussion that I was the one not shaking things off. I am too afraid anyways. Pink shows up to feast on my soul whenever my heart is hungry for validation to stay alive. I cannot say I love this feeling but this feeling also gives me a reason to be reminded that I need to breathe.
The first date I had with Pink was unexpected. I was literally swept off my feet. The touch was different; at first gentle, then fierce, then violent.
Yet, I always expect pink to show up. Every time I am stressed or worried.
Today, I have feasted into my soul so much content on social media. The massacre and the pain have me drowning in a pool of tears. I can no longer cry and I am unsure of what I feel. I know who loves to console me. Pink.
Tonight, I have decided to light up candles and give Pink a warm welcome. I mean, who doesn’t want to try and see if a relationship can work?
But the voices in my head, the voices of hope keep whispering to my ears — “Let Pink go. You are better than this. You can fight this”. Maybe I should have a conversation with Pink and say I am done. Also tell Pink that this is an abusive relationship and my heart can no longer be immersed in this pain.
It’s 11:45pm and there is a knock in my heart. A loud knock. My heart is racing. My mind, aching. Pink is here staring at me in the face.
Pink’s alias is anxiety attack. Pink is very popular with emotions. And tonight, my arms are wide open to receive this terrifying visitor.
WRITTEN BY: ZAINAB TIJANI MOHAMMED
INSTAGRAM AND TWITTER- zaynabmohd
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