and i’m breathing

What do you want me to say?

That I can't make eye contact with myself in the mirror without starting to cry

That my therapist saw me twice before telling me goodbye, deciding for herself that I was okay

That my grandmother can't remember my name

That she asks to be shot every time that I see her

and that every time she says it

I get flashbacks to just a few months ago and a phone call

and all of the people I know that have come too close to that edge

only for some of them to fall

But I can't bring any of that up

Because even if she knew, she wouldn't remember

And at least she's still breathing

and I'm sorry

That I got defensive in the game we were playing

and I know everything you did was meant in good fun

and I'm sorry

That it went down the way it did

But it still hurt

and I'm trying not to cry and instead just politely say good night

and I'm sure the look in your eyes isn't meant to say go away

But that's how it feels

and I'm sorry

and talking about it is supposed to make me feel better

But all it does is remind of all of the things that I'm not saying

That I don't know how to say

Because how do you say to your parents just months after telling them that a second friend of yours is dead

That four more of them have tried, only they walked away

and that I can name more people I know who have been sexually assaulted than I have fingers to count on

and that the people that you think that I have to count on are just ghosts in my world

But I have to be fine

because these things aren't happening to me and everyone else has bigger fish to fry right now

Because the medication she's on is less anxiety and more depression

and she's two weeks away from what's going to be the rest of her life

and she's my grandma but she's his mom

and I'm not the one being asked to hold the gun

and I'm breathing

I'm fine