As Random As It Can Be

There are good days and then there are bad.
So bad, that you can't make yourself get out of bed.
So bad, you have to remind yourself to breathe,
wish you didn't have to open your eyes.
So bad that you wish it was night time,
and you were under the sheets,
and mom couldn't see that your eyes are swollen from all that crying.
There are some days when you find yourself clasping the blade,
making small incisions, slicing, slicing away.
and some times, you cut a little too deep.
Your friends and family send you to a doctor,
a doctor who makes all the right diagnosis,
says all the right things,
while a storm brews inside, and you fear you will wither away.
As the world becomes a voyeur of someone's suicide,
you hide in the shadows, crawl back into your shell,
and try to grapple with demons.
You fall, and pick yourself up and repeat.
Away from empty rhetoric of healing, happiness and love.
You know the good days are some times rare, so you cling to them,
you cling to them like the last bite of your favorite ice-cream,
Savoring it, slowly.
Those days when your overbearing anxiety seems as light as a feather,
And the voices inside your head don't bother,
instead encourage you to go on a bit longer.
And you meet people, and you laugh a bit.
You set little goals, make promises to yourself.
And you finally go to bed, dreaming about another good day.