The covers cried out as I break free of their greedy, jealous grasp. First small victory… I’m supposed to count those you know? To remind myself to keep moving. I still cut out my heart today and sat it on the kitchen table.
The knife smiled at me, small victory for it I guess. I felt the air slaloming between my ribs on its way to my spine, where it grabbed hold. Cold, unforgiving.
I should be used to the cold, it’s the same every today. My needle pierces the scars as I sew the thick flesh back in place, to keep the cold out, of course. Reminding me of the days the victories weren’t enough.
I stand and put on my sweater, grab the heart, and throw it in the trash on my way to the covers to ask their forgiveness for thinking I would be strong enough today. The victories can wait until tomorrow after all.