365 DAYS OF REHAB POP:

1 SONG/DAY TO STOP DYING/START LIVING

WHAT ALL YOU CALL A FIGHT
I GUESS I CALL THAT LIVING
AND I CAN’T EXPLAIN
OFF THE TOP OF MY BRAIN
IF I’M ACCEPTABLY SANE

Used to think silence stole my sex appeal. Then it saved me. Stole me away in the night. Sexed me up with sweet, sweet, literal nothings. Made me feel sexy enough to stroll down the street at 7 past 3am and 16 past 6pm and be seen as nothing. I walked so silently, softly I made footprints in the sand only 1.6mm deep. You swam in the sea, and I was there too. I was stringently splashing about because I can’t really swim but all you saw was sea spray spritzing in your sight. At some time, I stopped swimming. Started drowning myself in 6cm baths I’d sat in for 16 hours and said nothing to my skin. Which was peeling, and I was letting. I thought it’d strip away since I couldn’t strip away the sadness anymore and with it would go my sanity and it wouldn’t matter if I was something other than serene a second more. And that’s how I lived for most of 67 days this summer. I stripped, I watched skin strip and shrink and say nothing. I had no idea if I was acceptably sane even somehow after I stopped seeing sadness skinny dip in pools of sunlight. Even after I learned to smash my fist in sunlight and make ripples to show I was here.

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