It’s horrible what unrequited love can do. Perverse, even. It can rip down the self-confidence that took years to build up, sending you straight back to your hapless middle school days, crying yourself to sleep. It can make you question your capability and strength to the point you’re not really sure it ever existed or if you simply imagined it all along. It robs you of your logic and sensibility, to the point you convince yourself that maybe wearing the right skirt or earrings will make that person who no longer loves you change their mind, and come running back into your arms. And you’re not sure who you can talk to because its shameful admitting to others that you are unloved, unwanted, undesirable. You can barely accept it yourself. And those who you do confide in, tell you it will all be okay, that you will be okay, and somehow the population density of the fish in our oceans is supposed to comfort you. And even if you know its true, and you will eventually learn to love yourself all over again, you’re not so sure you can make it through the next week, tomorrow, or tonight; as the pain, uncertainty and fear claws at you, your every waking moment.
Abbey Lee Kershaw by Simon Upton for Harper’s Bazaar Australia Jan/2013