if i could, i would lift this illness off my shoulders and shove it in the garbage. sometimes, i like to pretend that that’s actually a possibility if you want me to be honest.
if i could, i would make a latte out of the rare moments i love myself so every morning i could drink it, and remember all the times i wrote hopeful poetry and actually kind of believed it.
if i could, i’d find the root of my problems. i’d travel back in time, and i’d stop this where it started.
if i could, i would fix my vision. so maybe i could see the world as it is. and not as i interpret it.
if i could, i would consider myself in recovery. but i’m not. maybe someday i will be. but right now, i’m just trying to survive. okay?
if i could, i would make my heart into a garden bed and plant it full of hope. so every day, when i go outside, i could see it rising with the sun. warm. and safe. and golden.