On growing up yelling at the moon

Yes, I woke up one day, and everything had changed. but that was after years of sleepless nights, hollow eyes, and aching bones. years of screaming at whoever was listening please just let me die growing up broken is not beautiful or aesthetic. It is your dad screaming to please not fucking die (without saying anything at all ). As he looks into your empty eyes. so yes it does get better, and in a way, you can say I pulled myself up by the straps of my boots (as older generations love to say ). But that was after years of bloodying my throat from screaming at the moon to just fucking kill me. I awoke one day, and my hollow eyes had been replaced, with pretty life-filled blue eyes, sleepless nights were replaced with early to bed, and early to rise, and aching bones had become strong and healthy (as had I). I woke up one day and everything had changed. blades had become yoga, running, and poetry Despite my best efforts growing up broken, I will make it to 23. I no longer scream to please just let me die. I AM ALIVE, AND I AM GRATEFUL.