“I turn the key and open the door to my empty apartment but as I enter I realize something feels different. I close the door behind me and turn on the light only to find him standing in the corner. He doesn’t greet me, he just stares. He’s not quite the same as I remember him to be, or at least he doesn’t fit the figure of him I have been building up in my head since he’s been gone. He’s calm, familiar, welcoming.
I look at the table and I see everything that was in my fridge cooked and ready for me to eat, he gestures towards the chair and I obey. He’s put the knife with the sharpest blade next to my plate and I realize the anxiety won’t be inside of me for much longer; Just when I take a good look at the food and start feeling the comfort that’s about to fill my void, he puts his arms around me from behind and whispers in my ear: ‘do not worry darling, you’re back home now’.”
– The night I came to my apartment to find my depression had moved back in; February, 2016
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