A House to call my own.
Standing in front of my bathroom mirror.
The scene a familiar one.
My hight unchanged by shoes that bruise my feet. My beautiful nose, (the one that makes my look like my father) is shiny, it’s bones reset and healed from childhood injuries.
My eyes glow.
having anxiety and depression is like being scared and tired at the same time. it’s the fear of failure but no urge to be productive, and it’s wanting friends while hating socializing. it’s like running a marathon with the willpower of a corpse because you want to get to the end but you also want to sleep and evaporate into the soil and become compost for snails and flowers because then at least you’re useful