Good day, bad days

(260131)

breadcrumbs had kept me hoping
that you’d come back
and love me.
they piled and pushed me over the edge.

i lay here
under the wake of who I was,
searching for who I will be
hoping it will be better
than how I am now.
most days,
it’s a struggle to get up.
i kind of understand the whole spoons analogy now.
i try to use it to plan my day.

do one thing.
shower.
change clothing.
say something.

most days,
it sucks.
i’m trying to be me,
but I don’t have the energy to remember
how to know
who I am.
most days,
the darkness is heavy.
i use my spoons
to do tasks
that once were so easy
i never thought twice about them.
maybe not even once.

once in awhile,
there’s a good day.
sometimes it seems there will be two in a row.
but it can come crashing in a moment,
and I live in the unknown of how I’ll be at any given time.

a good day sometimes feels like a breadcrumb .

i get it now.
the large black dog.
the thick dark cloud.
the invisible weight in my chest.

when I take a step that looks easy;
it takes me 5 spoons
while it takes most people 1.
and I’m counting how many I have left before I make my next move.

burnt
down

i am here
wishing I wasn’t.

only solace is I’m writing now
which means
today
is a good day.