i. How to forget—how to bury nights so deep in your bones that even you yourself question if they really existed at all. Like those drunken dreams that almost feel real in the morning. Sometimes you wish they were. There are things I want to forget and things I want to remember, but you are both.
ii. Not all pain is created equal. Pain has no prescribed purpose, just hurting for the sake of hurting. Your veins will ache and your head will spin and you’ll stand in the shower counting the titles on the cold bathroom floor. Oh baby, just wipe the steam off the mirror and dry your hair, it’s only pain.
iii. Bad habits aren’t broken, only changed. You can’t abandon the bad, only disguise it — clean it up real nice and put a shiny bow on it. You might not drink your nightmares away anymore, but now you don’t wake up till noon. Open your eyes — you’re missing out on the sun.
iv. Control is an illusion, and you can’t lose what you never had. I’m unraveling, but don’t you let me come undone. Drop the cigarette, drop the act. Go home and lull yourself to sleep by counting your regrets. If you’re lucky, you’ll fall asleep before you get to my name.
v. You deserve to hear “sorry,” but I can’t picture you wanting to hear my voice again. We all have the worst versions of ourselves, but you’re lucky enough that yours isn’t set free with a sip of a bottle.
vi. There’s no easy way to grow. You sit with your messy, complicated feelings and they become your friend. Ragged, bitten down fingernails and chewed lips and bruised knees.
That’s the only way things change.