"What happened?" Madelyn asks, worriedly, and I don't respond. Instead, I collapse on my stomach, and I sob into the sheets. The bed dips, and Madelyn's hand strokes my hair. My throat is full of rocks and stones; they scratch my insides as they loll around, clacking together in an unsatisfactory manner. I choke on them as I try to breathe. In and out. In. Out. Out. Out. Out. 
    My breaths entangle until I am suffocating, and Madelyn's hand still runs through my hair and I am shaking my hands are not my own this is not my body not my body I am watching myself fall apart from somewhere else this is not my body. 
    The world is unstable, and so am I. This is the end. The tears are no longer spilling in rivers from my eyes, but the hiccups still escape my lips. The rocks are thinning, and I can breathe, slow tentative breaths. My lungs ache from the effort; they are not as sizable as they used to be. Deep breaths do not exist anymore, only small gusts of air. Only enough to sustain me. Keep me alive. 
    "Isla," Madelyn's voice echoes in my head, "Isla, I'm here." 
    I do not deserve Madelyn. In another life, maybe I would deserve her, but in this one, she loves me regardless, and I do not know why. I'm beyond grateful for her presence, but I do not deserve it. She always offers me assistance, assistance she doesn't need to offer, but she does anyways. My attachment to Madelyn frightens me. If she were to leave, I would have no one. I know deep down how unhealthy it is for me to rely on her constantly, but I don't have an idea on how to stop. 
    I grip one of Madelyn's hands in my own, and she squeezes comfortingly. It takes twenty more minutes for me to pull myself together, and when I do, Madelyn helps me sit up.
    "What happened, Isla?" she asks gently, her hand still in mine.
    I start to speak, but the words get stuck in my throat. Tears burn my eyes again, and I blink, hard. Madelyn gives me a reassuring nod, and I manage to choke out, "I can't go home for Thanksgiving."
    Madelyn furrows her brows, tilting her head in confusion. Of course, she'd be confused. She knew my mom had promised that we could have a real, family Thanksgiving. She knew I had actually been kind of excited to go home for it. 
    "Mike has a business trip," I say with a wobbly smile, "Mom is going with him, and she's taking Mariam and Valentina with her."
    "Are you serious?" Madelyn exclaims incredulously, and I just nod, my shoulders slumping.
    "I think I'm going to stay in the dorm over the break," I say, feeling utterly hopeless. Thanksgiving is mere week away. That doesn't give me much time to plan a last minute trip or find someone to stay with, especially with the upcoming exams that are being crammed in right before break. My chest hurts, and the hole in my heart widens. 
    "Like hell you are," Madelyn scoffs, "You'll come home with me."
    "No, I-I'm too much of a burden," I dispute, playing with my fingers nervously, "I don't want to ruin your family's Thanksgiving." Thoughts race through my mind at a million miles a minute. Her family does not deserve a full week of panic attacks and depression. 
    "You won't ruin anything, and you aren't a burden, Isla," she replies gently, and I bite my lip.
    "Thank you," I murmur, and Madelyn leans forward, embracing me tightly.
    "Please, come out of your room and eat," she whispers, and then she exits my room, allowing me to think about my mom in complete silence. I feel betrayed. Mom had promised that Thanksgiving would include all of us. Her, Mariam, Valentina, Mike, and me. I'd missed the past few Thanksgivings with her for various reasons. One was spent with my father at his country club. Another was spent in the hospital after I tried to kill myself. I just wanted to feel normal for once, and enjoy a holiday with my family like every other person I know. Maybe she was ashamed of me, or thought I would ruin the trip.
    I don't blame her if she does. I sigh, running a hand through my hair, and for the first time in three days, I get out of bed for a reason other than to use bathroom. My legs shake a bit from the lack of use, but I ignore it, walking across my small room to retrieve my phone off of the floor. Thankfully, the actual screen is not cracked, but my screen protector is absolutely destroyed. I carefully peel it off my phone, so I can text my mom back without cutting my fingers on the uneven shards of glass. I toss the useless protector into the small trash bin by my door, and I shakily text my mom back. 
    Isla: Yep! Madelyn already invited me to her place. No worries!
    I plaster the familiar fake smile on my face, and I set my hand on the doorknob, taking a deep breath before opening the door. Madelyn is in our small kitchen, making grilled cheese and tomato soup. She hums to herself, bobbing her head slightly to the music she is playing. 
    "Hi," I say softly, and Madelyn whips around and beams at me. She turns her music down and beckons me into the kitchen to join her. She continues swaying to the muted indie music, and I try to focus on the lyrics as I slowly enter the kitchen space. 
    "You want grilled cheese?" she asks, pulling a loaf of bread out of the cupboard. I nod, sitting down at the counter, watching her prepare our meals. The tomato soup is lightly bubbling, and the smell warms my insides briefly.
    "Our friends worry about you, you know that, right?" she asks, suddenly, and I flinch. She continues, "They ask about you everyday, especially Dallas."
    I don't have the right words to respond to her statement with. In fact, I can't think of anything to say. I stare at the counter, my mouth dry, and guilt consumes me.
    "I'm sorry," I say after a moment, a moment too late. Days too late. Madelyn removes the soup off the stove, turning the burner off and slowly pouring the steaming soup into two ceramic bowls. Bowls I picked out when we went shopping for our dorm. They are slightly heavy, and are coated in a light blue sheen. There are tiny birds engraved on them, just big enough so that I feel the uneven ridges under my fingers. The bowls I picked. 
    "You have nothing to apologize for," Madelyn says eventually, setting the bowl and a spoon in front of me. 
    "I do, though," I murmur, swirling the soup around with the spoon, "Not talking to anyone, withdrawing, avoiding my friends...they don't deserve that. I owe them at least an explanation."
           "They may be our best friends, but you don't have to go into detail about this with them," Madelyn counters, sliding a grilled cheese onto a plate for me, "I just need you to know that there are many people who love you and cherish your presence in their lives."
    Her voice is gentle, and I look down, pulling a bit of crust off of my grilled cheese and nibbling on it to avoid responding right away. The truth is, I know that somewhere deep down inside of me I am aware of the fact that I have friends who love me. But the crushing notion that I am a burden overpowers any other thought. I feel like Atlas, though I am struggling under the weight of my own mind, rather than the weight of the sky. 
    "I know," I tell Madelyn slowly, "but I don't know at the same time."
    "And that is okay," she assures me, resting her hand atop mine in a comforting manner, "I am with you for this whole journey, Isla. No matter how rocky it is."
    Have I mentioned how grateful I am for Madelyn?
———————————————-
Hello friends! Welcome to light :) This is an lgbtq  romance that focuses heavily on healing, self-love, and healthy communication. The main character deals with a lot in the beginning, and she is going to be very self-aware of how her actions impact others. Mental illness, is my opinion, is an explanation, not an excuse. I myself struggle with depression, anxiety, and ADHD, so this story comes from someone who also struggles. Updates will be slower.