and it goes like this:
i wake up and the day isnt so bad. i talk a lot and i laugh a lot and i eat when i remember to. my family calls me downstairs and i find myself staring my future in the face before my dogs start barking and the thought is whisked out the back door along with the clicking of puppy claws on hardwood floor. my friends pick me up and we wear masks in the car and we sit six feet apart and i realize how much they care. i wear clothes that make me happy and i put on a hoodie even though it’s sweltering outside because the air conditioner is cranked all the way up. i wait for fall rain to kick in and I try to feel as content as i can. my dad makes a joke as he makes beans and rice for dinner again. my mom hangs paintings on the front wall and asks what i think. my brothers yells of laughter echo through the house until late at night. i draw and i bake and i write until ive run out of breath and prose. my mind wanders to people i haven’t spoken to in years. i hope their families are safe when i walk around the pond at dusk. i tilt my head towards sunset and i feel like i am still 15 and full of hope.
and it goes like this:
i step up the stairs as the sky flips to grey then greyer then greyest. my room has become too cold so i turn off the air conditioner, knowing it will get too stuffy in an hour and it will have to come back on. i play music that says all the things i never found the right phrases for. i cradle my face in my hands while laughter from the discord call rings in my ears. i make a lazy excuse as to why i need to go to bed and hang up. i hop into the shower and i turn it as hot as it will go. i am basking in my own self loathing and steam as i brush my teeth to save time. when i get out i slather myself with cocoa butter and midway through end up closing my eyes in a halfhearted attempt to let the smell carry me back to second grade. i swipe out a goodnight to my friends and my room goes dark. my dogs climb into bed with me along with all of my thoughts from the day and we don’t all fit on my extra-long full mattress. then my chest begins to crack. i don’t think i can do this another day. i can’t find it in me to cry; my eyes have run dry after so many years of welling up at the smallest of sounds. there’s sandpaper under my skin and i feel something so primal rise up in my throat. the water running downstairs shuts off. the house is quiet. my head is so loud. eventually the feeling is expelled through some mediocre poem and it lingers in my mouth. the flavor sticks on my tongue like grease and bitter lime. i turn my phone face down and flip the ringer on, praying to god that tomorrow will be better. it’s an empty gesture: by now, i know exactly how tomorrow will be.
and so it goes. and so it goes.
