My healing is not incense burning and affirmations.
It’s not CapCut templates with sounds that say, “I’m doing better.”

My healing is dirty,
me forgetting to take a shower for days.
My healing is wrecking myself again
to fit the missing pieces together.

It’s bawling eyes,
a voice that shakes just to say, “I’m fine.”
My healing was crying to my mother on the phone,
and my father saying,
“You will not die, you will not dieeee.”

My healing was DND,
a dark room...