Yes I know this is really angsty but I'm feeling angsty so....

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Dear Amber,

Congratulations! I am delighted to offer you admission to…

The words blur as tears fill your eyes. One by one, they plop down and onto the page, leaving dark smudges against the creamy white.

You did it.

You got into medical school.

You’re going to be a doctor.  

A flare of ecstasy burns in your chest and for the first time in months you feel excited. But wait—why was that feeling disappearing? No—what’s happening? Why wasn’t the happiness lasting? You reach out with your hand, as if you could grab the emotion again, but it slips through your fingers and you’re left sitting on your bed feeling like utter .

No.

It’s been months.

This can’t be still happening.

You snatch up the letter and it in front of your eyes, willing yourself, forcing yourself, to feel something again.

Nothing.

You make yourself read the letters.

Congratulations.

Still nothing. Nothing except that ocean of grief you’ve been drowning in for the better half of a year.

Why though?

Why was it that after all these months, all you still thought about was her? How unfair was that? You thought time was supposed to heal all wounds. You had given yourself time. You had been patient with yourself. You told yourself it was okay to still feel hurt. Truth be told, telling yourself these things wasn’t something you were used to. You were a person of action. You always fixed things, you never just waited for them to fix themselves. But the self help books you had read all mentioned that you couldn’t speed up this grieving process. They had promised you that if you let yourself feel miserable, you’d feel fine soon. So you had put your trust in other people’s wisdom but where did that land you? You had thought the tradeoff was one day you’d wake up not missing her anymore.

Yeah, right.

Your hands clench, balling up the letter so tightly that it’s going to take you a while to smooth out the paper again. But you don’t give a . In one jerky motion, you swing your arm around and throw the letter against the wall. It bounces off and rolls across the floor.

“DAMN IT!!!!!” You scream so loudly your voice splits and you taste the metallic tang of blood coating the back of your throat. “DAMN YOU!” The screaming just makes you feel worse and you get up and start running around the room like a madman. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME???”

This version of yourself, this embittered, angry, depressed person who got up every morning and went to sleep every night without seeing the world around them, this is who you are n