a day like any other day

Billie Holiday plays from the record player, 

and my tie-dye shirt is baffled at the contrast,

at the serenity of the music 

and the chaos of the traffic below,

where does the clarinet fit in?

Fears, well they, they are the end of everything. I have so many and I am constantly reminded that I am not alone in this, which brings no comfort.

None. 

How could me thinking that others feel like I feel bring comfort? 

How could anyone use that as a balm?

Regardless, they remain.

I know I should work on self-control, and perhaps even get myself a therapist,* but that requires work, more work than I can do when I am feeling this way. Mostly, I just want to get through one day, one fucking day where I don’t feel like dying.

(next day)

Today is a different day and my feelings have shifted. When my gut feels bad, so does every other part of me. This includes my brain and my thoughts. We all do it. There’s no sense in trying to pretend. 

John said something beautiful to me yesterday. He always says beautiful things, but those are harder to remember.

He said that he can feel how hard I’ve been working on my mental health because his body has begun to relax. He said he felt it the last time he took a hot bath.

I have.

I have been working very hard to keep my demons at bay. They come and I can make them go away by reminding myself of the beautiful things I have around me, like this oil diffuser I can smell as I type this. He encourages me to buy things that make me happy. I always have trouble with that. Being happy has always been hard for me. More like staying happy…

“How much do you love me?” he asks.

“More than anything in this world!” I answer.

“I’m ready to start living and be happy,” I say with a hug.

“I’m ready to relax into this love.” he hugs me tighter, understanding that I mean it this time, that I will fail again, but that I mean it.

We had such a rough start.” I say—he breathes into my shoulder and says I’m sorry—I feel it, this sorry and my apology are different this time. 

Everything is different this time. 

I am in my new space and the cold air is blowing on me and I can see DTLA from here.

It is a beautiful life. 

I want to believe that the things I do in my waking life will equal to be just as important as any other person that walks this Earth.

I am tired of feeling unworthy.

*I got a therapist!

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