Izzy & Noah ✔️

Forty-Six: Activating Fight Mode

I want to know that I will get better.

That I will be fine.

But I know this is going to be my one big fight.

I finally fell asleep when morning came.

The sun shines softly through the blinds. This snowy sun, warming my skin and melting the snow.

I wish for more days like this.

To make life easier.

That the sun would finally shine into my life.

"Good morning, sleepy." Noah says as I open my eyes.

"Morning," I reply, looking at him.

"How did you sleep?" he asks.

"Bad, very bad," I reply.

"Why?" he sits down next to me on the bed so that it sinks.

Freshly showered, rested. Am I the only one who can't sleep?

"Everything that's happened lately has made me think too much," I say, undressing and sitting down next to Noah.

"I wish you hadn't left,˝ I say honestly.

Noah starts to say something but I cut him off.

"Let me finish, I want my life to be easier, to be mine, no diagnosis, no suffering, no pain, no seizures, no psychotherapy, no trouble sleeping, no thinking about life, just me and you." I speak.

It feels like I have just ripped the band-aid off a fresh wound.

My chest hurts.

"You wish for the impossible, you know that. But you always have the option to leave. You don't need all this. Even for someone like you, it might be too much," he replies, holding me close.

"I can't. Don't say that when you know I can't." I look up at him.

"Look at me Izzy, I'll never hold a grudge against you, you're the best girl I could ever want, but I can't burden you like this and watch you destroy yourself." He says seriously.

How close am I?

How close am I to giving it all up and letting go?

Letting go because I can't, because I can't, because I'm chronically tired, confused, because my life is falling apart.

"No!" I shout.

To yourself, to him, to everyone.

My conscience stings at the thought of it, because it feels like everyone is pointing the finger at me.

Everyone would judge me for the way she left him. She let the sick man go, but no one would come to his defence and say maybe she couldn't do it anymore.

A guilty conscience is eating me up.

I kiss him to feel him, to silence the voice in my head.

We roll over on the bed, I want him.

When was the last time I wanted him?

I need to feel him, to feel that connection we have when he's inside me.

I kiss him, passionately, aggressively.

"Izzy, Izzy, are you OK? Your heart's beating like crazy." Noah pulls away from the kiss and tries to stop me.

"Yes, I am, I am. Let me feel you." I beg him.

"I don't feel like it," he replies. But it feels like he has forced my eardrums.