“I probably shouldn’t tell strangers about it, huh.”
“Why do you say that?” Jamie asks innocently.
“I think I’m making him uncomfortable.”
“Nah, you’re not uncomfortable, are you, Harry?”
“Not at all!” Harry replies, comically tense and wide-eyed, backing away from me until he’s safely engulfed into a conversation with another group of people.
“I scared away your friend,” I tell Jamie apologetically. “I shouldn’t talk about it; it freaks people out.”
“I think it’s good you talk about it,” he says. “Probably helps you process it better.”
“Are you repeating what your therapist friend tells you?”
“Yes.”
“When I talk about it, it doesn’t feel like I’m talking about it. Does that make sense?”
“No.”
“It feels like I’m talking about something that happened to someone else. Then I have to remind myself, ‘Oh my god, that happened to me!’”
“Okay, I think that did actually make sense,” he says thoughtfully. “I think what you’re saying is, when you’re talking about it, it’s like having an out-of-body experience.”
“Yes!It’s surreal. Anyway, sorry for scaring away Harry.” I take a sip through my straw before looking up at Jamie quizzically. “Do you think I’ll always be that person?”
“The person who scares people away?”
“The person who got dumped the day before her wedding.”
“No, Freya, you won’t always be that person. You’re not even that person now!” he says, looking exasperated. “You’re… Freya!”
“Very helpful.”
He laughs. “What I mean is, what happened doesn’t define you. It’s not who you are.”
“Yeah?” I nod, letting his words sink in. “That was actually quite helpful. Thank you.”
“Doesn’t matter how the world sees you, anyway.” He puts down his drink and then rests his hands on my shoulders. I inhale sharply as I’m forced to look up into his intense, dark eyes. “All that matters, Freya, is how you see you.”
I can’t stop thinking about that moment.
All that matters, Freya, is how you see you.
I’m lying in bed and I can’t sleep, because I keep thinking about the way he was looking at me. With those eyes, hepierced my bloody soul.
I would love to claim that line as mine, but I’m pretty sure I’ve stolen it from a magnet on Cali’s fridge. She loves an inspirational quote.
Whatever that line is from, it is ringing true for me right now. My soul has been pierced.
Do I want it to be pierced, though? That’s the question.
I’m so confused.
Googled the quote because I can’t sleep and it turns out it’s from a Jane Austen book. A man called Captain Wentworth is writing a letter to Anne—not sure who she is, but someone important—and he says, “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope,” in the hopes of winning her back, which is very romantic.
I once got a drunk text from Matthew that read, “me like boobs.”
