Day 2: Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot.
He told me that it wasn’t
my words or my lack of them
my hair or my clothes
or how often I didn’t smile
that warned him of the battle
raging in my head again.
he said it was the lost homework,
the gaps in my notes,
the unmade bed,
and army of half-full coffee cups lining my bookshelves
that warned him that the truce had expired
and my dreams were bloody and burning again.
so when he became battle fatigued
I started leaving trails of post-it notes in my wake
so that I would brush my hair,
make my bed,
bring my dishes to the sink,
and put ice packs over my eyes
so the next one would believe me
when I said I was fine.