"... and then it'll hit you.
it'll hit you when you're shopping for paper towels and it'll hit you when you're loading your car with groceries.
you'll sit in your car and you'll think about who you were last week and the week before that and so on until you finally get to who you were ten years ago, and you'll run your fingers through your hair.
it'll hit you.
it'll hit you when you're pulling into your driveway and it'll hit you when you put the can of beans into the pantry.
you'll look around your kitchen and glance out the mini mindow above the sink to see the grass outside.
it'll hit you.
it'll hit you that this is your life and you aren't the same person you were.
you aren't screaming into your pillow at 1am hoping it'll help the pain.
you aren't staring in the mirror picking out every flaw.
you aren't holding your stomach as you cry, trying to muffle the sobs.
instead, you're shopping for new curtains and trying to figure out what pillows go best with your couch, because this is your life now,
and it'll hit you.
you made it."
YOU ARE READING
Motivation.
Poetryhey, stop scrolling. everyone who is reading this: I'm so glad you're alive, I'm so fucking proud of you. you are loved. don't give up, we're almost there. you are going to make it. ♛
