Shape of me✔️

The pain

~~S H A P E O F M E~~
Never had I ever felt this miserable. There was no word for the ache I felt in my chest; the sharp twitching stabs that cut through my feelings like meat being butchered at the butcher's shop. I felt the agony no matter what I did. It was there when I sat, when I stood, when I ate, when I prayed, when I dreamt. Whatever I did, the pain had a way of slipping in to remind me of him.

It was tiring.

I was exhausted and weary. The repeating cycle was so jarring that somehow I had fallen ill. My body had shamefully though not purposefully proven that it could not stand the test of time spent away from Malik.

A week had slowly waned past since I put an end to our sexual encounters and it felt like I had also put an end to our relationship too. Malik had neither called nor texted me and when I was drunk from loneliness and tried to pitifully do so myself, his number was 'not reachable'.

Somehow it was understandable, but then again it bugged me to think that Malik would avoid every form of contact with me just because I refused to have sex anymore. Was that all our relationship was about? Sex? The thought of him not truly loving me made me want to be sad, cry and be angry at the same time.

I was in an emotional mess, a wreck actually and the cause could only be traced back to my boyfriend who I wasn't even sure was still my boyfriend. I wasn't sure of anything about us anymore. In fact, our relationship would perfectly fit the description of 'complicated' in all aspects of itself.

Each day that passed without him drove me almost crazy with sadness, and made sure to bathe me in an overflowing spring of self doubt and hate. It brought back memories me of all the times I had spent depressed and glum while finding distaste in every fold and stretch mark on my body.

Words of regret vibrated through the walls of my body, reminding me of what I had always feared—'I was never good enough for him'. It was true. I couldn't lie to myself about the glaring fact that I had tried so hard to ignore in our relationship. I wasn't good enough for him and I could never be. It was clear I had held him back for too long. Now I had to let go.

I have to let go. I thought as I pulled out my phone from the pocket of my sweatpants to dial his number. I was in the slow and undeniably shaky process of doing so when I noticed a new message from Facebook. I didn't use Facebook anymore, but I did know the number of notifications I had and they had since stopped increasing since I hadn't been online for years.

Opening up the message box, I was hit by a rush of messages. There was one that however caught my attention. It was the most recent. 'Twelve hours ago.' I noted.

"Hi Tope, I don't know where to start from. Can we...talk?" My eyes flooded with tears as I read the username of the sender over again. It was him. Him who was once my best friend. Him who I had once trusted with every fibre of my being. Him who was the last person I let in so close–past the walls I built up–without any romantic ties.

Him, Ade.

I could remember it so clearly; the first time I realised just how different I was. The first time I saw my curves and stretch marks as disgusting. The first time I ever felt self conscious and insecure. Sometimes, I couldn't help but wonder how different I would had been if that day never happened. But it did. And it ruined my life.

Three years ago:
Today was one of the fun days at school. Instead of doing some work or trying to do something useful, we all wasted away the free period we had without regrets. It was most especially funny as Ayo and Olu–our class clowns–put their comic acts on display, making sure to amuse everyone.