Scream. Sob. Shout.
You’ll sound disgusting.
Today, I made noises I didn’t even know how to make. Who knew.
Grab that pillow. Get mascara all over it. You didn’t really like that pillow anyways.
Sob. Shout. Scream.
Sit in your closet and wonder why this is happening to you. Question everything. Pray to God. Pray to the closet wall.
Today, ice cream isn’t going to cut it.
Just let every single thing you’ve been holding in, out.
All of it. Wail. Even if there is someone downstairs.
Cry a little bit more. Not to the point where your insides feel dry and you can’t breathe and you feel exhausted. But just to the point where there is a little bit left of the pain, despair, agony, anger and sadness inside of you. Just a pinch.
Take that pinch of energy, and use it to get up.
Walk down the hallway to the bathroom. Look in the mirror.
Yeah, that happened.
Grab some wipes, some tissue, wipe it all off. Your eyes will be red. It’s okay. Bless the creature who created sunglasses.
You’re fine. Not, “I’ll be fine.” You are fine, today. Right now.
You are fine.
Get off the toilet seat. Don’t look in the mirror again.
Pull yourself together. Get out there,
and keep fighting like a champ.
You are a champ.
Now, let it go.
It’s too heavy to carry with you.
You’ve got a lot more places to go.
Cry, girl. Then be done with it.
Oh, and let the person downstairs know that you are alive. Because you are.
This is being alive.