LOUD DARK UGLY

Once upon a universe—---for that is how all stories should begin— there was once a girl who hopped from her skin to within. Nothing more than a bag of blood and bones. She traveled and searched endlessly for purpose in that deep, dark mind of her own. With all that searching, she swapped places with her shadow. It didn't happen all at once. Oh, It was a creeping, sneaky thing. nipping and pulling away at her, piece by piece, sending her into a realm, not of her own. It was dark. And the longer she stayed, the darker she got. In that dark place, she feared never making it back to who she once was. She was lost and she hated herself every day because of it.

The darker you are the worst it gets, people will see you in pain and not even flinch. It was ugly. No one knew that she was gone. In their defense, she was still there- or rather, the shell of whom she was once was. Surely she was lost. But no one could see the lost posters she hung up around her mind. On the outside, she was a master of 'interested' conversation. Hover, offer a few words, and maybe even smile. Never stay anywhere too long. It tricked everyone good enough. Some days it almost felt like she could trick herself.

Somehow that made it that much worse.

Just when the sky would turn dark, the real trouble would begin. That's when she would try to fight back in the deep dark within. It was a painful process. Her mind would push back on her every step of the way. It was loud. Her mind would scream, blood-curdling screams of profanities and insecurities as distractions. Her cheeks would grow wet, and all the breath would catch in her lungs. Like clockwork, she would twist and turn and yearn for the fullness her shadow stole. Her heart-ripping, grabbing and pulling from the seams of her own chest, and the possibility of making her way back home was so close to her fingertips, but never quite in reach. I'm sorry if I led you to believe this was a fairytale. My mind has been a string of loud, dark, and ugly thoughts for as long as I can remember.

When I was fourteen I didn't think I'd ever see eighteen. I probably would've been right if I didn't tell anyone I was attending my own funeral every day. It took a lot of courage. I was so ashamed to admit that I had been playing pretend. I didn't think therapy would help much but therapy saved my life. It allowed me to see that darkness is just the absence of light. And when I finally let the light in, my life became so much more bright. 

Therapy isn't just sitting in a chair facing the monsters you've tucked in at night. Therapy is poetry and lilies. Therapy is local bookstores, and the sky turning colors that barely exist. Therapy is my boyfriend's laugh and my sister's cupcakes. Therapy is that moment you take the right turn in your mind and face happiness. There are going to be some days where you might take the wrong turn and that's okay. Your mind is surely a maze that you can't escape but sometimes you'll find beautiful, beautiful things- that are so overwhelmingly painstakingly breathtaking you'll have no choice but to stay.

Being human is hard. I could cry about it but I already had. Many times. Probably too many. I would stare at the ceiling with a hoarse throat and swollen eyes, begging for eternal sleep. I thought about what a courtesy that would be if I could fulfill the prophecy my mind had for me.

 I was hopeless. I wanted nothing more than to sink to the earth's crust and turn to dust. And on nights where I'd put up my greatest fights, I'd take a look at the sky and let the night chill caress my face. Almost in a way to tell me that I'll be okay. On rainy nights that would be the best, cause at least I'd know I wasn't alone in my despair. It is a human obligation to be flawed and this is mine. My mind has tried to kill me many, many times- but, I'm still here.

When I was 18 I didn't think I'd ever see 20. I'm 22 now and every day feels like a gift. I romanticize the world around me because I have no choice. From white chocolate Kit Kats, fresh sheets, dried press flowers, constellations, my mother's eyes, and my lover's lips- My God, am I eternally grateful to exist. I can't tell you that I'm going to live happily ever after, but I can tell you that the same mind that tried to kill me is the same mind that has saved me. There's so much beauty in this loud, dark, and ugly world. I can't believe I didn't think I didn't matter in a place made of matter. In the vast expense of this beautiful universe, I exist- That has to count for something.

I'm determined to make sure it does.