If you asked me where my life was a year ago, it’d probably come as a shock when I said I was looking for death in a ******* fueled euphoria at endless parties, hoping every person who asked, “Are you okay?” would save me from myself.
If you asked where my life was a year ago, I would say that a lot of days were hazy because Xanax was the best way to forgive and forget, and at that point, my body hurt without it.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I would tell stories of how I left my abusive boyfriend just to become my own abuser, and how I left far more marks and scars on myself than he ever did.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I’d mention how heartbroken I was and how badly I searched for love at the bottom of endless liquor bottles, and how I never quite stayed awake long enough to see if even a glimmer of love was there.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I’d tell you I spent a week or two very sick trying to get the drugs out of my system so I could see the sadness in my parent’s eyes disappear when they looked at me.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I’d tell you that my mental health dilapidated, and that I spent a night swallowing pills until it landed me in the hospital. I’d tell you that I unfortunately didn’t meet death that night and mourned over the loss of my sanity and what could’ve been.
Now, if you ask me how I am today, I’ll tell you that I still get very sad, and there are still days I want to die; However, I’ll also say that I am clean, and my parents are proud, and I found very healthy love, and I found myself. I’ll say that I realize the gasp of air you get when you finally come up from drowning is the best feeling, and things get a bit brighter.