I skipped the second half of school,
went home and grabbed a shovel.
As I was digging a hole big enough to bury my problems,
my friend texted me, said
Just watch two episodes of a show on Netflix,
then see how you feel afterwards.
Let me know if you feel any better.

I didn't text her back,
didn't tell her that 81 minutes of Beavis and Butthead
didn't quite do the job.
I didn't tell her that I googled "How to Love Yourself"
and I definitely didn't tell her that out of the 24 steps on WikiHow,
only one could save me.
Step number 5 was "Forgive yourself."
My first thought was,
How are you going to make that number 5?
23 other steps to being a passionate person who is truly grateful
do not compare to
forgiving yourself.
That's the hardest part.
My second thought was how.
How can I forgive myself,
when my dog greets me every morning
with bright eyes and puppy kisses
and I tell him to go away
and I push him off my lap
because he's taking up too much time?
How can I forgive myself
when step number 3 suggests keeping a diary,
and my first reaction is to look down at my legs because
my thighs are enough of a diary as it is.
These scars tell people more sad stories about me than they’d ever need to know.

Beavis and Butthead didn't do the job because there is no job
there's only volunteer work and benefits to claim.