There are mornings when everything is cloudy; When the air feels thick and it’s hard to breathe. On those mornings, the tasks of getting out of bed, showering, and brushing her teeth feel overpowering with the dark cloud of guilt and disgust shadowing over her as she sulks into bed. Bed. Where everything is closed and comfy. Where everything is safe and outside of that space she’s reminded of all the things she doesn’t have, all the people she doesn't have. The tasks build up and responsibility climbs. Responsibility to her parents, to her school, to her friends, to herself. The responsibility that overtowers her. How can she do this? she can’t do this. But when she’s out of that comfort box and the space around her is clean and she looks presentable. When she smells good and her to-do list is completed, the mirror changes its appearance. It’s no longer a girl disgusted with herself; filled with guilt and hatred. It’s no longer a girl that’s trapped inside her own body pleading for it to be good for something. It’s a girl still tired and exhausted, yes. Though, she’s stronger this time. Each of her breaths feels clear and assuring. And all of a sudden, the small fact that she is up on her two feet is the most important fact of the day. Not because she’s able, not because she’s human, and not because at one minute she had struggled to do so. But because she got herself to this next point. All by herself. And in hopes that she can remember this moment in the times to come, that she can remember her strength and rely on it next time. She rewrites her own definition. And she laughs to herself. There’s no way in hell she’ll remember. But words written in pencil can be erased. And she, as we all, have been written in pencil. So, she will just have to do it all over again. All by herself. And she will, perhaps. Or maybe not.
