There are moments of clarity where I know everything isn’t as bad as it seems. Whole months, head above water. But when you’re drowning, you’re drowning. It doesn’t matter how many months a year you spend on land. And I am nineteen, telling myself, I’m going to grow out of this. And I am twenty-five, convincing myself, My world is not ending. And I am thirty-two, promising myself, It gets better. Because it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not; it’s what you have to believe in order to survive.
