Okay

A good day.

Today was a good day.
I managed to get out of bed
and brush my teeth,
take a shower,
Even brush my jet black hair.

Today was a good day.

Yesterday I couldn’t get out of bed.
I cried for hours and hours.

Have you ever felt the weight
of the whole world on your shoulders?
When your old friend Darkness swallows
you whole, and your hands can’t seem
to reach the flickering candle to lead you out.
The kind of cold that sinks all the way,
deep into the marrow of your bones
that even the hottest of showers cannot
stop the shivering and warm you up.

Not wanting to wake up in the morning
because all you feel is nothing.
Hating the ugly scars on your arms
that once helped you to feel something.

More often than not, I spend my days
sleeping for hours on end —
trying to shake this feeling of
death’s cold shroud lying upon me.

But today was a good day.

I bought eggs and milk from the corner store.
I made breakfast, and even managed
to eat more than two or three bites.
And kept myself from throwing them up.
I remembered to take my medication,
and I didn’t (completely) hate the girl
I saw staring back at me in the mirror.

I called my mom and dad,
and they said they were proud of me.
I haven’t heard that in years.

Proud that I am taking care of myself —
Proud that I am learning to love myself —
Proud that today, if only for one day —

I am fine.

Maybe I didn’t go to class like I should have,
Maybe I haven’t graduated from college like you have,
Maybe I don’t have a job like you do.
You and I have different definitions of success.
You and I have different definitions of strength,
You and I have different definitions of okay,
You and I have different definitions —

And that is okay.

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