Emm Roy

I listen to the rain talk to the leaves. She tells a story of love and leaving (isn__ that always the story? Isn__ that always the punchline?) She tells it softly like someone who has recently lost something that cannot be replaced. She closes her eyes and remembers. The leaves quietly wait. They love in silence. They understand in the dark. And I too begin to understand. We are all part pouring rain, part fallen leaves. We are all part of the world, and we all have a story.

Mental illness People assume you aren__ sick unless they see the sickness on your skin like scars forming a map of all the ways you__e hurting. My heart is a prison of Have you tried?s Have you tried exercising? Have you tried eating better? Have you tried not being sad, not being sick? Have you tried being more like me? Have you tried shutting up? Yes, I have tried. Yes, I am still trying, and yes, I am still sick. Sometimes monsters are invisible, and sometimes demons attack you from the inside. Just because you cannot see the claws and the teeth does not mean they aren__ ripping through me. Pain does not need to be seen to be felt. Telling me there is no problem won__ solve the problem. This is not how miracles are born. This is not how sickness works.

Don__ waste your entire life always waiting for the end of the day, for the weekend, for summer, for things to change, for something better. Enjoy as much of the present as you can. Now is happening. Now is good. Now belongs to you.