When I was fifteen all I ever thought about
Was killing myself
And how I was in love with my best friend
But she didn’t love me back
It’s been six years and I’m so happy
I no longer feel a need
To drain my veins
I can take my medication without counting the number of pills
I no longer grow my nails out
To drag them across thin skin
And maybe I’m struggling right now
But I no longer want to die
So I guess I can call it a win

On nights like these I find myself glancing longingly
At harsh pink scars
Wishing they’d hurry up and disappear
So I can officially close that chapter of my life
But recovery is hard
Staying clean is hardest
And I’ve never wanted more than to erase that part
Of my past

Recovery is not all meditation and green juice
It’s itching skin and irritability
It’s wanting to expose your veins for no reason at all
But needing to remind yourself you don’t do that anymore
It’s accepting the acts you did to yourself
No matter how ashamed you are

I’m proud of six years
Even if sometimes I itch to feel the sting of metal on skin
Even when I find myself digging my nails into my palms
I know that six years ago I could barely make it six hours
So I’ll acknowledge that recovery is hard
I deserve to be proud of how far I’ve come
No matter what anyone else may say