when the lighting shatters every last thing you ever thought you needed I'll be here, I'll still be here, my hands wide open like they're soaked in blood, I will pry every last tendon from my bone to prove to you I know what hurt looks like, this, no: this, is not what they call getting better. sometimes our hearts beat for no other reason than they don't know how to stop, sometimes people turn away and leave and never come back and we don't know why, mother, can you hear me? you said there'd be days like this but you never told me how to handle them when they turn into my every day. remember that one time in December? when you finally realized I might need some help or I'd die younger than our dog? I was upstairs contemplating killing myself and you were downstairs screaming about ***** dishes. this is not healing, I'm not going to pretend I know what that is, but I know something's changed, the stars aren't telling me to self-destruct anymore, and that's gotta count for something, right?