like i don't care
tilting my head to an angle
where the world no longer looks skewed,
and pretend that the clock does not weigh me down more
with every movement of the minute hand
i am not beautiful
but that does not bother me right now.
i am alive.
and that is good enough for me
because depression was never a choice
but i still made it out
and finding a way to stop
(such trivial words for such a great askance of a task)
was still a journey i never wanted to take
being stranded in the desert.
your feet are blistered by the hot sand,
your throat goes dry from dehydration,
your skin burns from the sun overhead.
yet you cannot stop.
you must not stop.
to all of the people
who have walked for miles to find salvation,
and all of the people
who will someday feel the shade of a roof again,
this is a goodbye from the desert.
i made it.
now i just have to believe it.