The Murmurings of a Wren: a Tumblr blog

I Should Consider Myself Lucky

I should consider myself lucky. My body is smooth, unscarred, except for the falls and tumbles of childhood, hockey pucks and wayward frisbees.

I should consider myself lucky. I have no need of medication to keep me functioning, save for allergies, headaches, and the cramps that come like clockwork once a month.

I should consider myself lucky. My family is unbroken and bound tightly by the bonds of blood and love - something one such as myself should not take for granted.

I should consider myself lucky.

And yet, my face holds worry lines at the tender age of 18.

And yet, my lips are rarely smooth for all the gnawing and tearing my teeth inflict upon their surfaces.

And yet, sometimes I curl up in a tight ball under the 6 or 7 blankets as my multiple alarms blare beside me; because sometimes I don't want to get out of bed in the morning, because my mom once read somewhere that weight helps to reduce anxiety.

I should consoder myself lucky. I've never struggled with grades or tests, never pulled an all-nighter to make sure I pass a class.

I should consider myself lucky. I'm what some call a Jack of All Trades - decent in nearly everything, and blessed with more gifts than most.

And yet, I still feel the icy fingers caress the underside of my thighs as sweat beads on my upper lip and at the base of my scalp.

And yet, the knots still wind themselves tighter and tighter in the depths of my stomach.

I should consider myself lucky. I do not struggle under the weight of others' opinions of me, their misconceptions of who I am.

And yet, bile still rises in my throat as I drive to meet up with the people who care about me the most.

And yet, I sometimes pretend to be sick for a day, just so I can take a single breath - untainted and unrestrained - before I plunge headlong back into the real world.

I should consider myself lucky. I've never once entertained the thought of taking my own life.

And yet, sometimes it's as if I'm looking up at the world from the bottom of a we'll do deep I can only see a single, dim star in the distance and no way to climb up to it.

I should consider myself lucky. I have a mask that fits like my second skin so no one around me has to worry about me or my well being, so they can focus on their own problems.

And yet, behind that mask is a child that screams to be heard, that doesn't want to be the mature one anymore, that wants someone to see the cracks in her mask as often as she noticed the hardline fractures in everyone else's.

I should consider myself lucky. I am happier, more content, than nearly everyone I know.

And yet, I am human - just like everyone else and struggle - just like everyone else.

I should consider myself lucky. And I do. Or rather, I consider myself fortunate to know where I've been blessed and let that help to pull me from the well and toward the stars.

I consider myself lucky.