Better Than Before

I threw out the chipped mug you loved, finally—

the one that said “good vibes” like a dare.

It felt dramatic for a Tuesday,

But so did staying.

✁

I’m learning to drink water

without bargaining with myself.

To eat breakfast even when

My thoughts want dessert in the dark.

✁

The therapist calls it “repatterning.”

I call it: walking past your street

without turning my head

like a dog trained on sirens.

✁

I changed my sheets.

I opened the window.

I let the room smell like soap

instead of old apologies.

✁

Some mornings I still miss the chaos—

It had a pulse, I’ll give it that.

But peace is a quieter animal,

And I’m trying not to scare it off.

✁

I practice saying “no”

in the mirror,

and sometimes I laugh,

because I look like a stranger with my own mouth.

✁

I don’t know who I am yet, exactly.

Just… less bruised.

Less available.

More real than I expected.

✁

If this is healing,

it’s not pretty—

It’s honest,

And I’m choosing it anyway.