On this day I woke up with my face on the floor. I thought I hear the crunchy thud after, but it must have been before, or somehow lost in time between my left cheek and the floorboards. I felt the harness against the bones first above my cheek, and saw the rust and dust through one startled eye, before it slowly focussed on one hard nail slightly aloof from the floor and from life. I crawled back to the bedroom, like the foetus of a dog, and remembered the pain, maybe minutes, maybe hours before. In truth, it’s been longer. Decades of pain, from the soles of my feet to my fleshy, aching back; decades of loneliness and longing. Even now, I can feel the dark throb somewhere above my left cheek and below my left breast. On this day, I woke up on the bathroom floor. On this day, I fainted because the morning seemed so far away. On this day, I woke up and I was still heartbroken. On this day, I crawled on my hands and knees because I was afraid to stand on my own two feet. On this day, I woke up for the second time, after seeing your face in the mirror. I stood up and walked away.

Daisy Duende