It looks like

Wearing short sleeves in the spring breeze and not being afraid

It looks like

Depression clearing and happiness being abundant, easy

It looks like

Recovery is possible because you’ve realized that there is no point in doing this to yourself

It looks like

Not having secrets or hiding tools and tears or silently crying

It looks like

Having nothing to hide and laughing freely

It looks like

Not cringing every time you see a tool

It looks like

Pizza stained family movie nights because you’re not crying alone in your room

Loving weekends because you have friends who support you and love you

Even when you tell them about your past

Not being scared to dance, your favourite thing in the world, because you don’t have to cover up

It looks like

Not feeling broken all the time

Breathing through it when your boyfriend’s lips find other girls’ and he breaks your heart

But not into a million pieces

Only a couple

It looks like

Remembering what you’ve been through and seeing it as strength, as a story of recovery

Not as a burden

Or ten

It looks like

Seeing the girl who abused your heart and

Not running away

At least not for too long

It looks like

Knowing that we are imperfect humans who make mistakes

And hurt

And cry

And love

And feel

It looks like

Drawing a butterfly instead of picking up that tool

And naming it after your friend

Dance teacher


And letting it save you

It looks like

Realizing that you actually saved yourself and that you have power over any tool

It looks like

Taking down your walls and trusting because you know they love you

And if they break that trust, you can handle it

It looks like

Knowing how strong you are

Have been

For seventeen months

It looks like

A blooming flower, a developing negative, shades rising to the surface

Even black because you’re not afraid of the dark anymore

Because the whisperscreams ceased and you don’t stay up all night crying your lungs up

It looks like

I’m okay