I’m 67% sure

I’m okay at least

52% of the time.

I suppose that’s not optimal.

Still failing, that,

and not even enough to snicker at

in a little blip of immaturity.

But it’s a majority,

and that has to count for something

because just last month,

I couldn’t even remember my name

for my problems. And I couldn’t

remember my problems for the lies.

Oh there was so much wrong,

but there wasn’t. Not really.

Just the one: that I couldn’t find it

within myself to be alive,

that everything seemed unnecessary,

like struggling was pointless and happiness

(because I’m sure there was some of that

even if I got so, so low)

did nothing to help.

But.

I’m better now.

Or getting there.