oh, the bad days just seem to stretch on forever, don’t they? digging right into your bones, foaming at the mouth, they do not let go or give in. they fight harder, and longer than any sane person could possibly endure and finally break you, when you’re lying on your bed, watching TV.
rather than drinking water or doing your schoolwork or working on that story. rather than taking a shower, or talking to anybody. because i’m so deep down now, i don’t think anyone can save me but myself, so… i’ll sit there, drowning. in a big, grey hoodie, and the same pair of jeans i’ve been wearing for days.
i’ll close my eyes, and wait for the ocean of pixels to carry me away, to somewhere the grass grows green, and the birds sing all day, and help me stay sane through… all this.
and you’re there with me. everyone is. all my imaginary friends, and long-lost acquaintances, perfect lovers i’ve yet to even meet.
and when it gets bad, the walls cradle me close. i take a bath, i read a book, i get the fuck off my phone, and know that right here where i stand is a place called home.
i get changed into pyjamas. wash my face, and look at myself in the mirror. the girl before me is tired, and sad, and there are bags under her eyes. and she’s breaking out again. but if you look closely, you can see a little grain of hope buried deep down inside. and for the first time in two fucking years, she starts to think that maybe, when all of this is over, she’s gonna be all right.