I have to keep reminding myself
My worst days in recovery are better than my best days in relapse
Because perhaps
When the voices in my head
Won’t let me go to bed
I still make the choice to wake up in the morning...

My heart is an open museum where people walk in and out for free. Exploring until they can’t find find what they intended for, so they walk away. And I stay with myself

There’s lightening in my heart.
It beats like thunder.
My chest echoes like a cave.
My ribs crack and my bones shake.
My veins like rapids.
There’s no room for air in my lungs,
And I gasp.
Anxious with open eyes

Depression is like that friend
who knocks on your door
when the party has already
Finished.

I wonder
If under different circumstances
Am I gonna feel
A little different too
Or am I really just destined to constantly feel this way?
Eternally sad and isolated?