Some days it starts slow, and the sun is always shining brightly.
Those days I don't hear it at all, and the day is blissfully silent.
Those are the times when my husband is more than excited to come home and see me,
And I'm more than happy enough to not only cook, entertain, and interact with him,
But to also whisper to myself what I am thankful for.
And then some days it happens quickly.
The sky is dark and I awake in pain.
I cry because I'm alone when my dreams fade away,
Because all the things I usually do with a smile suddenly become harsh and cold.
Standing up becomes a challenge,
As does caring about housework,
Or what may be going on around me.
"The atmosphere is different, and that's before I make it home." He says.
Those days not much is said,
Not much is laughed about,
And hugs are forgotten.
The tears fall down as I hear what I know he doesn't.
"You'll never be happy."
"You don't deserve it."
"He's angry at you."
"Your ideas are terrible."
"This will never improve, and neither will you."
The worst ones come when I'm alone, however.
"Where are your friends?
Where is the love you claim to have?"
A promise to myself?
Tomorrow WILL be better.