When People Ask Me How I’ve Been

There are good days and bad days. On the good days, I feel invincible. Like I’m on top of the world and no one can stop me. I look around and see beautiful miracles all around me. I repeat my gratitude to the Universe.

On the bad days, I am a contradiction. My heart feels heavy but I’m hollow inside. Getting out of bed seems like the most difficult task on earth. I tell myself I’ll feel better if I get outside to take in some fresh air. But the mere thought of taking that one step terrifies me. So instead, I just sit there. I sit there and think about how I should go out. I sit there and stare into space for what seems like a lifetime. I sit there and let my thoughts take over. The thoughts that torment me day and night. The thoughts that tell me I’m not good enough. That I’m a lazy, ungrateful 19-year-old who dropped out of uni because it was ‘too much’. That I should stop pretending to be someone I’m not. That I’m a disappointment to everyone around me.

On days like this, I still notice the miracles but I’m no longer fascinated by them. I tell myself I don’t deserve to be surrounded by all this beauty. I read but nothing goes in. I write but nothing comes out. I sleep but the thoughts won’t leave me. I act like I’m perfectly fine around friends, when in reality my bedtime stories have been replaced by tears.

Minutes, hours, days go on like this until the darkness fades away. The light peeks through and the cycle begins again. I appreciate the good days because they show me why life is worth fighting for. I embrace the bad days because they remind me that I’m human. That I’m alive and breathing. That’s all that matters.