Maybe it will not be fucked up after all.
Maybe it won’t be all that bad.
Maybe I will really make it through like all those facebook updates say I will.
Maybe I will not turn out to be the bad fish.
Maybe…maybe someday I will make something beautiful out of some things.
Maybe, one fine day I won’t feel the heavy load on my shoulders when I get out of bed.
I won’t feel like crying when I wake up.
Maybe, some day I won’t feel like staying in my shower forever,
And I will participate in life.
Maybe that day I won’t go back to smoking in the afternoon and keep my morning promise.
Some day, I won’t wait to go back to bed, I won’t look forward to it as much as I do now.
I will talk to people, not because I have to but because I want to.
And I will speak up for myself and not feel guilty about it, because that day I will finally know that I’m worth it.
I won’t be bullied by people, won’t be belittled by them.
Public places won’t make me awkward,
And crowds won’t drive me nauseous.
I won’t spend my day trying not to offend sick twats who don’t think before they speak.
And then maybe everything will hurt a little less. Just a little will do.