one

one

fuck fuck fuck

i absolutely fucking hate this

why do you have to be dead?

the doctor put me on the waiting list for counselling when you died, and look at that, just thirteen months later, i found myself sitting opposite a woman dressed head-to-toe in beige who kept smiling at me, like we shared a secret. and she kept using my name. how are you feeling, bella? thank you for coming to see me today, bella.

it’s every other tuesday morning at 8.30am in sparkbrook, which is convenient for literally no one

she said i should write you a letter

thirteen months of waiting just for her to tell me to write you a fucking letter

i asked her where i should post it

and she didn’t seem to think that was as funny as i did

i might as well laugh because i can’t cry

it doesn’t mean i don’t love you

it’s just that i want to scream more than i want to cry

and i’m trying to hold it in

the therapist said there are places you can go to scream, like the top of a mountain or a roller coaster. there were screaming clubs during the pandemic, she said. she told me i could probably join one if i wanted

but what’s the point in sanctioned screaming?

i don’t want to scream when it’s okay

to scream

i want to scream in the middle of new street station at rush hour as loud as i can and for half a second have everyone stop and stare at me and fear for their lives that something terrible has happened

i want to scream in the library all the way down the escalator, ruin everyone’s train of thought

i want to scream in people’s faces when they look happy

i’m not going back

she’s trying to fix something that can’t be fixed

fuck her

fuck everyone

fuck you for dying

i’m so fucking furious with you

but still. i love you

bells