Hey God, I wanted to tell you thank you. I’ve come to you crying enough times asking why, or to understand – but this time I wanted to say thank you.
Thank you for giving me life.
Thank you for the soft pastel sunsets, the song of birds and insects when I take off my headphones, the smell of a jacaranda tree’s leaves, the way my dog goes crazy and rolls over when he sees me after a long time, for the crisp sound of a chord when I haven’t touched a guitar in months. Thank you for the old song that takes me back to when I listened to it on repeat for days.
Thank you for the night I wrote the suicide letter hidden in the closet, for giving me the strength to text Kady, who talked me down. Thank you for the day I got pulled over by security while crying in high school. Thank you for the night on the lagoon, where I called the CAPS emergency hotline, and for having the person stay on the phone with me in the Uber until the hospital. Thank you for my parents walking in before I finished the bottle of pills. Thank you for how scared and alone I felt in the hospital, as that was the push I needed to open up to Dr. Huneycutt. Thank you for the painful things that have happened in the past, without them, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.
Thank you for letting me wake up day after day, even on the days I beg you to not. I’m so glad to be alive. I’m crying while writing this, but thank you so much God for giving me more chances than is fair. Thank you for it all, I promise I’ll try to cherish it.