And what about those nights when I don’t want to get up the next morning? When giving up is the easier option, because really, who would love me like this anyway?
And as I write these words I wait for the fight to kick in, for the anger to strike me and tell me not to believe that. But I wait like I wait for health: hopelessly.
And what if I’m tired of waiting?
And as I contemplate the bed I am getting into, I wonder about the bed I will wake up to. Will it have been slept in? Will I have spent another open-eyed night wishing the sun would rise more quickly and yet not rise at all?
And I have two arms. One I wrap around my body, tightly, because there is no one next to me to do it. One I keep free to wipe tears. The pain is too much.
And the fear is crippling. When health is but a fantasy, the future is but a question mark.
And I want to be hopeful. Sometimes it feels like I am winning, because I have a voice in my mind that tells me that right now is not really all that bad. Manageable. Definitely not the worst I’ve had. Perspective. You know the sort.
But there’s always a tonight, and I don’t want to get up in the morning.
I got locked inside a sadness, I got lost inside my head, couldn’t find a light to make me glow. -Holes, Layla