Because waking up sucks, but then there’s coffee.
Because putting on clothes is trifling. ‘Jeans that fit’ is a myth and anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar and probably also your boss and every single shoe on the planet isn’t right for that precise moment. Because fuck a shower. But then there’s that scarf that your friend gave you, and those shoes that have all of your happy colors, and that sweater that always fits no matter what. And there’s walking out the door looking like you from head to toe.
Because people are shitty and no one respects you at work. Because stuff goes wrong and doesn’t get fixed and there isn’t enough time for anything. Because ownership is a myth and no one cares and you don’t matter. Because even when you try your best, sometimes it’s still fucked up. But then there’s that phrase that isn’t fucked up. There’s the easiness of vibrato where there used to be only tension. The amazingness that is, always and forever, the release of a perfectly harmonized chord. There’s a section that doesn’t struggle and a passage that is suddenly easy. There’s intent and delivery and being the you that works hard because of love and nothing else. There’s the reality that when you play anything, at that moment in time, you are all that matters to the success of that phrase. There is, and always will be, music.
Because meals are hard and the insulin you take is probably mostly preservatives and fuck a bolus sideways on the back of a leprotic camel. Because food is tricky and carbs do matter and zero diets actually work. Because the shitty people will tell you what you can or cannot eat based on their perception of your disease. Because they mean well so be nice to them. But then there’s fuck being nice; get a goddamn clue and here’s a dead pigeon you can stuff in your mouth just in case more words are about to slip out. There’s texture and flavor and artistry that make the blood sugar check and recheck and shots and extra shots entirely worth it. There’s food that tastes delicious and days where your blood sugars are vaguely polite about it. There are rare pockets of people who don’t tell you what to eat or shout out your numbers or assume you are lazy and undisciplined because you have a disease. There’s the success in finding and friending the rarities, and holding them close.
Because days end too quickly. Because time is slippery and regret is easily stacked. Because you can lose people, and still care. Because death isn’t the only loss. Because emptiness weighs more than happiness. But then there’s the endless night sky and its reliable embrace. There’s falling asleep after a day that involved you being you in your every activity; there’s the lack of falsehood in this type of slumber. There’s accepting your care even when it has become heartache. The reward of tears to honor that care. The release of responsibility to an investment that only wounds. There’s carrying your emptiness until your happiness gives up and adopts it as its own, and now it is happiness that is specifically yours because your pain and your joy are one.