A life less grey

He asks me every Thursday: “Why do you like this show?”
Tonight, as a song from a previous season, from a previous life, played, I wept. And then I explained why.
I was that girl.
I made bad decisions, used poor judgment.
I slept with inappropriate men, drank until I blacked out and woke up the next day with my life in shambles and my head throbbing.
I pushed forward, I trudged on. I was a walking train wreck, and everyone around me knew it.
I was either raw and heartbroken or high on life. There was no normal.
The music spoke to me, opened my eyes and my world.
I was impressionable, and I was at a crossroads.
Soon, I had several song lyrics that became mantras: “Sometimes in the morning, I am petrified and can’t move, awake but cannot open my eyes.”
And later, once I’d made it through the day, “Today has been OK.”
I stood at the bus stop, waiting for the 1226 to pick me up and take me to school. I boarded, grateful to be shielded from the piercing, dry winds. I held the handstrap and tried not to fall atop ajumas. Today has been OK, I told myself. Today will be OK.
That’s all I could ask for, and that’s all I could achieve then.
But today, that’s a different story.