Tomorrow.

I have spent a great deal of time trying to convince myself that my emotions are inconsequential and I shouldn't feel the way I do. I suspect so many people do that - they live as apologetically as I have. I've found myself not saying things or tweeting things or writing things in case it makes somebody else feel badly about themselves, or feel badly for me, or judge me in some way. But I don't want to apologize for how I feel. Because I feel it. And pretending I don't doesn't change that. 

Today was ok. I got up, I went to work, I did my job, I came home, I ate leftover Indian food from Saturday's date, and then sat on the couch and snuggled Earl. I didn't cry, I didn't text the ex, I didn't make poor choices with men that don't mean anything to me. I stayed home and felt my feelings without covering them up or pretending they don't exist. And feeling them today was much less painful than feeling them was yesterday. And that may seem small to someone else, but that's a big step in the right direction for me. 

The allure of tomorrow is that it will be better than today. Some days it isn't. Some days it's worse. Some days it's the same. But that tiny ray of hope that it can be better is what propels me forward. I typically don't live for tomorrows. I try my hardest to live in the moment and experience today. But when today is more than I can take, I simply wait for that tomorrow. When I was in high school and severely depressed, I'd focus on the tragedy of today and wish there was no tomorrow, because I was convinced tomorrow could only be worse. Sitting here, I can appreciate the change in perspective now that I'm older, wiser, whatever. 

It's after midnight and so technically, it is already tomorrow. I merely need to go to sleep and then I can experience the miracle that tomorrow is: a fresh day, a new start, a day closer to mending. So, until tomorrow.