You Don’t Always Have to be Okay


I should have just stayed home today.

I’m sitting at my desk, just scrolling through forums and looking at pretty pictures on photography sites. I don’t participate on my usual afternoon spree, because I am too tired to think of answers and all I want to do is close my eyes and sleep.

This morning, I woke up very happy because of some cotton-candy dream I’ve had, but my happiness dissipated quickly when I stepped inside the bathroom for my morning shower. There, on my inner thigh, was a constellation of pinprick bruises, looking for all the world like pretty red freckles.

Reality came rushing up like a riptide and I suddenly couldn’t breathe.

I ran to the mirror and checked every inch of my body. There was a faint sprinkling of the tiny bruises on my chest, on my lower back, and on my arms. And if that wasn’t enough, I finally gave up and let myself feel the aching in my joints and the slight-but-always-there nausea that has been beating down my defenses for weeks now.

The world felt like it was dark and screaming but I refuse to let it get me down. I tried putting on a brave face, but in the back of my mind, images of syringes and dark blood running through tubes and pristine white hospital rooms ran like a looped slideshow.

I don’t like crying. For me, tears are tools for persuasion, props that you can use whenever you need to get out of tight spots. That means that I can’t cry too much, because doing so would risk my cover getting blown. But right now I feel so lost and hopeless and I admitted to myself that I don’t always have to be okay.

I remember reading that when life pulls you down like this, you can react in three ways. Let’s say your troubles are like boiling water. You can start out soft like an egg and come out hard-boiled. You can start out tough like a carrot and end up in a pulpy mess. Or you can be like tea, loose-leafed and bitter, but when introduced to boiling water it blends in and makes things better.

I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t buy that crap. I choose to dig in with my heels and hang on with my teeth and refuse to let the bastard (i.e. life) grind me down and change me.

As far as I’m concerned, this is just one of those practical jokes that life seems to love playing on us. So I am going to laugh this off, forget about it, and continue to live out my short life to the fullest. I don’t always have to pretend that I’m okay, but I sure as hell am going to try to make the best out of this mess I’m in.

I can’t deny that I’m scared of what might happen, but isn’t that the point of living? Pain, experience and failures all help in molding us into what we’re meant to be. From failures we learn, and by learning we grow.

And, well…I can’t wait to see what happens next. 🙂


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