I keep picturing what it would look like
To wake up and do the yoga
A fresh cup of coffee.

I wonder what it is like to actually write in my journal every night and not switch to using my notes app on my phone.

I wonder what it’s like to not be working out for 4 months then take 2 months off and restart everything.

I wonder what it is like to accept my own body. I wonder what it is like to just be happy.
To wake up and not want to stay in bed.
To wake up and not feel fear inside of you.
To exist and desire to remain existing.
I wonder what it would be like if you were here still.

I keep picturing this better version, a more put together version, a version that doesn’t keep eating candy to deal with stress and depression.
I am here at this point in my life but I do not feel like it is where I should be for myself. I have been saying I need therapy since I was 12 and I have yet to get it. Maybe that is what I will do for myself.

Attempting to be patient is a thin line with being lazy and making excuses for yourself.

Sometimes I wonder
How did I make it this far?

Sometimes I wonder when are you enough?
When do you see yourself as “there”?
Do you ever feel as though you are done?
Do you ever love yourself as much as your mom loves you?
Or your dad?
Or friend?
Is it ever enough?
What I do?
Who I am?
How much I weigh?
How I look?

Is it ever enough
To be
To exist
To breathe
To be
Happy

The sound of a beating drum echoes in my mind.
Over and over it goes.
I find myself waiting upon each break, hoping to hear the sound; to remind me that it isn’t hiding and plotting.

And at the same time I feel the relief of a beat-I wish it was an ocean wave or the wind howling at the peak of a mountain or a stream running by or the sound of my sisters laughter.

and I could romanticize it and say that it changes if only you adjust your ears.
But it doesn’t.
It beats on and on and on.
Eventually you learn how to hear both.  

You learn how to remember the joy in sunlight.
You learn how to be grateful each night.
You learn how to take a deep breath, while you wished you weren’t breathing at all.

And you have to chose this every day. Every day you wake up.
You need to chose to remember the things you love. And know that one day you’ll enjoy them again.

You must remember that you are living for everyone who let the drum beat them down.

You are living for everyone who let the drum beat so loud they forgot the sound of happiness.
They couldn’t feel it.
They couldn’t find it.
As if the drummer was beating them instead.

And so I will hold it out to you- a hand.
A friend.
A pair of headphones.  
And the promise to partake in laugher with you once again.

I think I’d prefer to remain by myself
To not begin a new friendship
The pain far outweighs the good
And disappointed I become again and again
When you fail to actually be a good friend

I look around and see smiles
A resting face
A quiet one
A calm one
All sorts of faces.
Everyone talking to each other,
With each other
Right there
But everyone is so far away.
They rate you and review you
And everyone likes you
Yet everyone is so disappointing.
The “friends” here are not that at all

Sometimes I fantasize what it’s like to fade away
I think about the comfort in a Black Abyss
I imagine you’re there.
To hug me and kiss me and make love to me and be complete,
Unlike how we were here.
Unlike how we never had the chance.

I imagine slipping away and no one realizing.
No one will have to feel the pain of me gone.
I wish it could be that way.
I imagine not having to wake up and be saddled with guilt, and sadness, and anxiety, and exhaustion, and fatigue.
It’s not even bad right now and I still desire these things.
Or maybe it is bad and I just still haven’t learned myself.