This time last year I lay in starched white sheets under burning bright lights.
This time last year, I shook uncontrollably, my body reviling its abuse.
This time last year, fiery pinpricks of pain danced quadrilles over my chest, neck, and torso.
This time last year, I was terrified of the nothing that came after the fall I could not remember.
This time last year, I held my mother’s hand too tight; for it was her who drew my from the obsidian blankness with her worried, calming summons.
This time last year, uncertainty and darkness clouded my usually sensible reasonings.
This time last year, doctors and nurses stood by my bedside with soothing tones, needles, and bad sandwiches.
This time last year, I could not sleep alone, for fear I would not wake.
This time last year, I thought I might die.
While I am better, I am broken.
The panic still wells within me, uncalled and unwanted.
I cry for the girl I was, who I abused so readily with too much work, and too little love.
I curse the names of those who bullied me into the arms of antidepressants.
And I curse those drugs; the ones that lead me to the path I tread today.
My body has healed.
Its strength restored by people who stood by me.
My mind, while restored, is bruised and scarred from the ordeal.
This is my plea to you …
Do not let your life hurry by.
Cherish the small moments: LIVE IN THEM.
Allow yourself to rest and feel joy.
You are worth so much more than what those bastards make you feel.
Hold those you love close, and tell them every day their worth.
Spend as much time as possible with friends; they will be your life raft.
Cast loose those things that do not bring you joy.
Reject those people who cause you pain or hold you back.
But most of all, beware of the wolves: for they will maim you without cause or restraint from beneath their sheepskins.