Eventually, you’ll think of death less often.

Recovery is not a straight road.
it does not get progressively better.
Some days you’ll feel like you’re flying, like everything is soft and warm and the nights are long again, without being sad.
Some nights you’ll wake up with so much light, with wings growing out of your back, and your fingers touching the stars from your bedroom window.

However, other days you’ll wake up wanting to die again.
Everything will be heavy and slow, and your fingers will ache despite being numb.
These are the days you won’t eat.
These are the days you’ll lock yourself in your room, so no one can see the weight of the entire world sinking into your skin.
These are the days where you’ll sit in silence in a room full of noise and feel your chest tighten.

These are the days you’ll text them, and say you miss them.
These are the days they won’t reply.
These are the days your friends will make fun of how quiet you’ve become, how you’ll never say a thing. These are the days you’ll push everyone a bit too far, where they can no longer make their way back.

These are the days you’ll tell them you’re tired.
You’ll tell them you haven’t slept.
You won’t tell them about the burn in your chest and how breathing has become a burden.  You won’t tell them how soft death looks, or how often you think of walking into the busy streets during rush hour.

However, these are the days that will pass.
One day, you’ll wake up feeling light again.
You’ll feel the stars at the tips of your fingers.
You’ll learn how to eat again.
You’ll be hurricanes and monsters and the sky right before sunset.
You’ll be the chilly September wind and the shake of the earth during quakes.
You’ll be the trees and the grass and the entire sun when it hits you at midday.
You will be whatever your heart tells you to be, and one day, you’ll forget what all that weight felt like; what thinking of death felt like.

– excerpt from a book I’ll never write
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