My days are coin flips.
If I get a tails, getting out of bed will be a little more difficult on account of the anvil that replaces my heart.
I’ll be less productive at work, but at least I’ll be there. My friends have to wait for the next time the odds favor them.
One would hope that they understand, but I don’t blame them if they don’t. It doesn’t look good when they come to your door and they see you peek through the blinds, but you don’t answer.
I just have a hard time carrying on conversation on bad days due to the hurricane going on in my mind. The thoughts swing by quickly so you have to mind your step when taking a look inside. Careful! You might get hit with the bat my dad hit my mom with…or a cat..
I try to give you every ounce of me, every day…but there just isn’t a lot of me on those bad days. And the more I fail, the less I want to get up to even flip the coin.
Can’t I just stay at home and watch the cartoons from my childhood to remind me of a time when things weren’t this fucked?
…just less fucked.