Some days are good, and we laugh and smile and wonder if things are finally headed upwards.
Some days are not so good, and we write good-bye letters in our heads and wonder what the best way to end it would be.
Some days we want to give up, throw in the towel, cry out that we have done enough and can handle no more.
Some days are peaceful; we can be reflective and see where this rocky journey has taken us.
Some days we try to change, whether that is hairstyle or lifestyle or something more dramatic.
Some days all we can do is hold on, to the ones we love, to our head as we pound it on the wall, to what's left of our sanity.
Some days we count days, until our next therapy appointment, how many days since we were last hospitalized, how many days in our depression cycle we have left before we bottom out.
Some days we just simply cry, for no reason, without wanting comfort.
Some days the slice of a knife across our arms in more soothing than even the warmest of blankets.
Some days the burn of alcohol takes us to a happy place where we forget that some days we just want to die.
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