Some days are like monkey bars.
You’re swinging, reaching from one stable sturdy bar to the next
Legs flailing
Arms aching
Struggling to hold on till you reach the end
And then you can drop.

Some days are a carousel
Dizzying.
Round and round
And round again.
Jumping off is hard.

Some days are a see-saw.
Shooting high
And then bumping to the ground in a matter of seconds
Someone’s on the other side, balancing you, watching, helping
But everything hurts when you get off.

Some days are swings
Pushing off against the ground until you’re flying out so far you feel you could just let go of the chains and disappear
And then suddenly shooting backwards
But hey.

At least you’re flying.

I make my safe spaces in people.

People who sometimes don’t notice enough to keep me safe. Or notice what I need to keep me safe.

I am not unhappy. No. This is not unhappiness this is pain.

Every day a litany of voices
Voices in my head.

Flip the happy switch, on, on, off.
Off, just like that.
(Where’s my cheat code when I need it)

Sit in the park sunny happy joy and then no trigger no warning just like that the switch flips back

I want I want I want to
I want to not be here
I want to not be.

Every damn day.