Today Was a Good Day

I put on pants today
and I know,
considering my age group
that’s not somethings unusual to hear
because it’s the quirky thing to say
because ‘oh my god adulting is like so hard amirite?’

but last week I wore the same underwear for five days straight
and now I’ve got a yeast infection
because it’s so hard to shower every day
when your brain forgets what days actually are

and I swear I took a shower last night
but my hair is greasy and I smell like sweat and the shaving cuts on my thigh are almost healed
and I’m not sure what’s real anymore

I got out of bed today
which isn’t that impressive considering someone probably did fucking brain surgery today
but yesterday I didn’t have the energy to tell my best friend I was okay
after she called me.
eight times.
in a row.

I got a text from her this morning
asking if I was alright
and I know she was just seeing
if I was still alive
because I told her I wanted to die
but it’s so hard to kill yourself when you can’t even get out of bed

I ate dinner today-
too much probably
but when you stop replacing meals with cigarettes and pain pills
it’s hard to remember when to stop
I mean, when you’ve been hungry for years
you’re going to get seconds

And yeah,
you’re going to gain weight,
but there are still nights where you have a bottle of wine and a fistful of chocolate chips for dinner
because you used the last but of energy you had
to call your doctor
because eating wasn’t as important as getting your prescription filled
so you could use the extra pounds anyway

I called my mother today
and I told her I loved her
I told my brother about the tea I bought
and how I’ve been sober for two weeks
and I know that’s not so impressive,
but when after the second family member dies of liver failure
this year
all victories are large ones

She asks me how I’m doing
and I tell her I’m alright
and I mean it
I hope tonight she doesn’t worry,
anticipate phone calls from unknown numbers
from hospitals
knocks on doors by police
bringing news of my suicide

We both remember what the bad days are like
we remember hiding knives and aspirin bottles
we’ve both
made love with box cutters
envied Ophelia and broken branches and
fantasized about rivers because
we’ve been thirsty for far too long

She tells me she is proud of me
I tell her it was a good day.