Life unravels.
It never asks for permission – it just does. Like a puzzle, it is pieced together oh-so-carefully before being thoughtlessly torn apart. It leaves you feeling like a little child, one whose security blanket has been mercilessly stripped away.
Maybe that's why you did it.
You hadn't planned it – you hadn't planned for any of this – but it happened, nonetheless. The pressures of a lifetime had finally cornered you, crushed you, smothered you, and you caved. For an hour, you had found peace, and it was oh-so-wonderful. If only for a moment, your burdens had lifted, just as fog dissolves into the morning. You had found your comfort blanket, despite being much too old for it, despite it representing the one who had hurt you the most.
Then he found you.
If not for him, you would have gotten away with it, no one would have ever known. But instead, you were forced to make excuses, ones you both knew were lies. Forcing the words past your lips had been painful, the look of suspicion on his face even more so. Deadpanned words had lingered in the air, suffocating you. He had narrowed his eyes; you had forced out a wavering smile.
And he had walked away.
He knew the truth as well as you, but for once, he hadn't said a word. You know you should have been grateful, appreciative at the very least, but you couldn't. All you could feel was shame. Shame and remorse. You had crossed the line that divided the past and the present; you had been unable to let go.
But letting go is so hard.
When everything unravels, you cannot help but grab at the strings. You refuse to release; you can't stop trying to put it all back together.
It never works.
Instead, you are left entangled in a nonexistent ball of yarn, unable to fix it and unable to free yourself. You've tried, but it isn't easy. Time is needed to untangle yourself, immovable persistence is required.
And you will make mistakes. It is unavoidable. Sometimes you will backtrack, get yourself into the same mess that you just got out of. But no matter what, no matter how many mistakes you make, you can't stop trying. You won'tstop trying. Because, as much as your past is a part of you, it cannot be allowed to control you any longer.
You know that he worries about you. You know that your mother's ever-present shadow will never cease to loom over you, trying to force its way into every thought, every action. But you also know that someday, you will be like a child all grown up, no longer needing its comfort blanket.
And you won't need Mum's jumper anymore.
XoXoX
Not quite sure where this came from. A bit of a drabble, I suppose, but the urge just came upon me to write it one day, and so I did. It won't make any sense if you haven't read the Black Book, and even if you have, it still might not. This was just a bit about how Natalie's life has fallen apart, with the occasional reference to her being caught by Ian asleep in Isabel's closet with her jumper.