Remembering a few things

"If only you could realise that your enough, as you are, even now when your sick. That's all I want from you. That you stop worrying about not being good enough for me, and keep on being yourself. I don't care if you do housework - as long as you are you, yourself, and stay here with me."

And I get that. I get what she means. And when she's talking to me, I do believe I can do it. When I'm home alone these long, lonesome days, with only my own blaming voice in my head, it's much harder.

"I want you to remember some things. Some important things. You're good. And you're enough. And you're loved. Do you think you can remember that? I'll remind you of it, every day."

In the end she wrote it on my arm, with a heart around the words. That I'm good. That I'm good enough. And that I'm loved. Especially the last bit brought tears to my eyes - but then again, I cry a lot these days.

I'll remember it. And I'll find this damn depression-monster that is sneaking up on me and infecting my brain, and I'll kill it. So there. 'Cause I belong to her, and nobody else, not my own malfunctioning brain either.

(And then she wrote her initials on one of my ass-cheeks, with a ball-point pen that tickled a lot, and she made me laugh. One of the billion things I love her for is how she can always make me laugh, no matter what.)