September

By Solly Woo

It’s the third of September.

A smile tugs at my lips.

My room is clean, and I eat strawberry toast.

Three months ago, I hardly left my bed

A cyclical routine of eating, sleeping, scrolling

I was immovable, fused to my blankets

3 days later, everything hurt. hurt. hurt.

Time moved by without me,

But soon, I embraced the minutes

We went to London this summer,

People shared a piece of themselves

Through books, restaurants, and music.

I realized then that life was simple,

that it was supposed to be about dreams and little things,

Not the illimitable thoughts of I’m not good enough and

I messed up.

It’s the third of September,

And I think I am healed