Day one: for the first time in years, you had a good day but you’re still scared this is just a phase because happiness never lasts and the darkness always settles in your chest when you least expect it. but for the first time in years, you go to bed without flinching when the sheets rub against open cuts.
Day seven: it’s been a week and it’s starting to look good but you’ve been let down so many times you refuse to let yourself believe this is the start of something good. nothing good ever lasts and you’ve learned that lesson too well to forget it now.
Day thirty: it’s been a month and your family will finally stop asking to see your wrists every time you’re quiet but no one can feel the silence eating away at you, no one can feel the way your scars start to itch when someone is looking in your direction. your parents may start forgetting that you’re broken but that doesn’t make you feel whole.
Day forty: you’re starting to get bad again and you’re sucked right into that dark cycle you swore you’d get out of. you’re drowning in your own sadness and you don’t have the air to call for help anymore. you’re choking on that lump in your throat and it feels like you’re suffocating, god you’d do anything to make it stop even if that means leaving this place forever.
Day one hundred: it’s been too long and you’ve stopped counting days, you’re just guessing by now. everything is a blur except it’s all happening in slow motion. you can’t remember anything except how it feels to have the darkness drag you down by the ankles. you don’t know anything except red blood and warm tears.
Day two hundred and sixty three: you’re having trouble getting out of bed but this weight in your heart is all you know. faking smiles is taking so much energy but you won’t let anyone know you can’t breathe anymore because you’re dying on the inside and your lungs are rotting away. you don’t remember what it’s like to feel anything except a cold, metal blade on your skin, you don’t remember what it’s like to feel warm inside, you don’t remember what it’s like to feel anything at all. you’re on the sidelines watching everyone move on and make their own futures and you’re not even sure you want one anymore. you’re not sure of anything anymore, you’re an empty body with scarred wrists and broken dreams.”