i hope you make it through the night.
and every morning, i hope you cling to the rising sun. close your eyes, and bathe your open wounds in its gentle light. i hope you know that you have to hang on. because i love you. all right?
i hope you know. how strong, and kind, and beautiful you are, even on a bad day. i hope you know that i need you. i need you to stay.
i hope you know, that this stifling fog will not last forever. that the poison ivy has to go away.
i hope you know… that you will survive this. cracked bones and broken pieces, you will see the light of day.
i hope you know… that you’re gonna be okay.
I’ve written a lot of poems with similar themes to this one. Poems, about making it through. About being okay.
Poems I wrote while I, honestly, was not in the best of places myself.
I’ve spent a lot of my life thinking that I was the only one feeling a certain way. That there was not a single person out there who understood. And I want to be someone for others, who lets you know that you are cared for, and loved, and not the only one. And even if there’s only a handful of people who I can do that for, all of this will be worth it.
It’s weirdly therapeutic, for me, writing about these things. Because my brain can’t help but come to the conclusion that if I am capable of caring for a random person on the internet, I must deserve that level of care directed towards myself as well, too. And that’s been really helpful.
I don’t want to write this to trivialize anyone’s struggles. But I hope that, on the bad days–the days when your vision is distorted, by the depression, or the anxiety, or whatever–the days when everything just feels numb and awful, this whole mess of words can remind you, of the good things. Amid the awful.
Lots of love,