I'm Doing Pretty Well

I'm so glad that this is the truth.

how am i?

well, that's a loaded question.
implications were never my speciality, though,
so i'll answer you clearly -
skipping the riddles for now. 

i'm doing good,
i'm breathing fresh air
and running tv marathons

i've been okay lately,
the Ice Queen's leaving
and i have a surprising lack of remorse,
i'm being freed from a turnkey!

school's over for now,
means i'm less of a target,
i don't have to hide.

went to Pride, 
cuddled my cat,
this is the skin i live in
and i'm alright with that. 

i'm doing pretty well, 
my mouth remembers smiles,
however vague,
and my fingers can recall
the shape of a pencil again. 

my lungs are being lungs now
and issuing breathing tutorials to my brain
my feet can re-learn to walk,
this isn't the hardest thing

my depression is at a standstill.

me saying that is the equivalent of
me running through a finish line
for the half-way line - 
i am not healthy,
but i'm pretty damn close. 

my music sounds like music again,
odd beats run erratically with snaps,
i am at one with it once again

it's like you're climbing a mountain -
you got to the top once, but you could barely breathe,
and now i'm halfway down the slope to the ground

the ground, my friends, 
is happiness. 
god, it sometimes seems like 
the ground is just a fantasy,
exaggerated to make it more desirable. 

but no, i'm just going to have to learn 
to bring an oxygen tank with me
when i climb.

but i'm going to try and avoid that.

so, how am i?

i'm good.
for once, i'm pretty good.


The End

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