Go on and listen to it.  Listen to it twice.

I am grateful for a dark room and music that is old but feels new to me.  For scraping by for one more day when I know better and haven’t done better.  I am grateful for people turning up when you need them.  I am grateful for feeling off but knowing that I feel off, for having self-awareness and some genuine kindness towards myself.  I am grateful for not tearing myself limb from limb for my imperfections.  I am grateful for dear friends sharing their marvelous news with me, and grateful, too, that they can share their pains with me.  Braided updo hair tutorials that may or may not work but will save me fifty to seventy-five dollars for five hours of nobody giving a shit about my nice hair.   I am grateful that I can detach a bit from the idea of leaving the house and falling in love.  I am grateful that I still have that idea, from time to time, though.  I am grateful for every time I stay up too late laughing with my friends.  I am grateful I can feel deeply and sincerely about their happiness without playing any sort of comparison game with myself.  I am grateful I am willing to be here and work out my words and not coil away from my holy obligation.

I love the fact that I can go back just as I desire to any point, that there is no running out of time, there is always a fresh beginning right around the corner.  You can find one between blinks.  I love fresh, cold water filled with fresh, cold ice.  I love throwing off the mantle of ANXIOUS PERSON and just driving to work or just daydreaming about fanfiction or just inhabiting this body alone.  I love the quiet of small moments when you’re not shielding yourself from worried daggers and sha arrows.  I love that some random Tumblr post has more than 700 notes on it.  I love hat I dealt with writers’ group for this session and I am now going to find a cheap pretty dress to go with my cheap, pretty, self-done hair.

Wouldn’t it be nice if things we needed to turn up tomorrow turned up?  If I got some sleep and let things go once I’ve given them a try and found them less than necessary?  Wouldn’t it be marvelous if I put on some makeup and looked at myself a couple times in the mirror?  Wouldn’t it be great if I picked out tomorrow’s clothes tonight and maybe rolled out the door early enough to get myself some coffee?  Wouldn’t it be spectacular if maybe I got this done and got a few things answered, a few things planned and willed myself to stop pretending that I can get by on dust and old ways.  Wouldn’t it be nice if I remembered that the old ways are poison?

Wouldn’t it be nice if it just got nice again?

Oh, Elliott, the things we lost, the things we never had, how they come again and blow right by.

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