To the universe, with love

Sylvia Plath said, 'Please, I want so badly for the good things to happen.' I have seen people get their medicine in line, pills that get swallowed while being under supervision. I have seen girls stay out of jail by being hospitalized, their preference over a cell. But it's the same, just for one you need $100,000, not for bail, but because "doctors bill separately." They saw you for two minutes and decided to give you the medicine that makes them the most money.

I once had two therapists and one was just for anxiety. I was terrified I'd randomly start screaming obscenities. She said, you just wouldn't do that, Alison. I stared at the paintings on their walls, wondered how fake watercolors don't bleed all over the floor too, like my wounds.

I'd say I'm a survivor. I get up and put my jeans on one leg at a time, brush my teeth, my punishment is lingering one day longer. I breathe and I am underwater.

She laid out my hospital bills on my bed and asked if I felt that was how much I am worth. It's hard to come back from that, to feel whole after being put in a wood chipper.

I come back, always, to Sylvia Plath - I think of having children, think better of it. It's just an endless cycle. I pour a cup of coffee and cheers the many people, the ones who are paid to cure, and the ones who suffer. It's hard, this being alive, but so is dwelling on your place in the universe.