Page 132 of Landon & Shay: Part One

She handed me over a folded piece of paper. “Now, just to be clear, I read the letter, because I am a nosy grandmother and I worry about the two of your hearts. You mean the world to me, sweetheart, and so does Landon. He’s a good boy. A little banged up around the edges, but still worth loving.”

“He’s really broken, isn’t he, Mima?”

“Oh, honey…we’re all a little broken. If you think anyone in this world doesn’t have cracks, scars, and a story, then you’re not looking close enough. We weren’t brought into this world to be perfect; we were brought here to be human. To live. To feel. To hurt. To love. To cry. To exist. And with that, comes a few broken parts. You don’t have to be perfect to love or be loved. You just have to be brave enough to show the world your scars and call them beautiful.”

“I love him.”

“Yes, and once you read that letter, I think it will be pretty clear that he loves you, too. I want to warn you. Some of those words are hard, but I beg you to keep reading. The ending will always be worth the hard middle.”

She left me alone with the pages. I walked over to the couch, sat down, and as I crossed my legs, I began reading Landon’s mind.

Chick,

Reading that word was enough to make my chest tighten with nerves. I pushed myself to continue, even though I was afraid of what was coming next. Afraid of what his words would tell me, afraid of what his truths would reveal.

I hate myself, and that’s my truth.

Each day, I wake up and wonder why I’m here. Why I’m fighting each day when everything feels hopeless. I wonder what the point is, and that scares me. I struggle to get out of bed, to exist in a way that looks normal to others. When we first began our bet, you told me that I was fake, and that’s the truest thing I’ve ever been called.

I am fake.

I fake being popular.

I fake loving parties.

I fake being content with life.

I fake fitting in.

I am fake through every fiber of my soul, except for a small corner that’s real solely for you.

I love myself when I’m with you. Each day I wake up and think of you, and I know why I’m here. I know why I’m fighting each day when everything feels hopeless. I know what the point is and that scares me. It scares me how much I love myself when I’m with you, because what will happen when you’re gone? Will I struggle to get out of bed? Will I struggle to exist in a way that looks normal to others? Will I be okay without you around?

It kills me, Shay. It kills me how I break down, how I crumble under the smallest ounce of pressure. It kills me that I snap so easily and have all this rage inside of me that I’m not sure how to control. It kills me that I hurt you.

I hate me for hurting you.

You are the realest thing in my life, and I had to push you away, because I don’t think I’m what you need. What you deserve.

I never kissed that girl, and I hope you believe me. I knew I’d have to make it seem that way for you to really not want to have anything to do with me. Still, you showed up at the hospital with arms wide open. Still, you love me. So, I figured I should tell you my hardest truths.

When I was younger, I thought about ending my life. I don’t know if you recall, but I went through a pretty ugly duckling season. In sixth grade, I was bullied pretty badly, and I would come home crying every night. My mom was so worried about me, which was why she quit her traveling job in order to be home with me. The bullying was bad, though, and I didn’t know how to deal with my thoughts and emotions in an appropriate way. Everything felt so wild and intense in my head that I’d get panic attacks.

That was the first time I cut myself.

That was the first time I told my mom I thought about ending my life.

It never really got easier; I just got stronger. Physically, at least. Emotionally and mentally, I was still a wreck. Working out became my outlet, and my parents got me on some anti-depression medications. They work a little. Not as much as I would like, but thankfully I don’t have those urges to hurt myself anymore.

I picked up drinking and drugs to quiet my mind a little more. I tried to push the bad thoughts so far down that I’d almost forget they were there. It worked until it didn’t. Then, after losing Lance to an overdose, I knew I couldn’t keep down that line. Even though I loved my uncle, I didn’t want to end up like his story. I didn’t want to follow his path.

I went cold turkey, and then came you.

You threw me for a loop. You brought light into a world that I thought would always be encompassed with shadows. You made me wish and hope and dream of a future I never really thought about.

I don’t want to die, Shay.

For the first time in my life, I want to live. I want to find a way to feel alive on my own. The way I feel when I’m around you is how I want to feel when I am alone. I want to sit in the darkness and be okay with the sound of my own heartbeats. I want to not struggle to get out of bed. I want to be okay with being by myself.

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