What if I don't remember how to go back to school? What if the reports and all the things have slipped away from me when I wasn't paying attention?
Worse still, what if I'm no better at all? What if my welcome back committee consists of a hundred pills and a rope? A long tumble with concrete at the end? What if i just feel better now and everything will come back and I will no longer study trees but become one, become rooted in fear? What if I can't move forward so I begin to rot and I seep into the soil below my toes and little by little I fade away back into the earth? I don't want that (anymore) I want to grow and live (I suppose) and do things and see space (I think). What if my own silly mind won't let me? How many hours of community service and fasting and piety can put in order my disordered mind?
Or what if everything is absolutely fine, what if I can adapt and learn and be healthy and laugh and eat and grow and grow and grow and everyone will think I was lying, that I wasn't really sick that I was just lazy. And what if I am. I didn't cut that deep. I only needed one stitch (no silly girl it's because they could only place one stich in the tic taco toe board you carved on top of the wrong vein)
It wasn't that serious
It's not that serious
I'll be fine