I woke up today in haze. Last night's fit was especially rough. I shoved the pills off my nightstand to give myself a better grip while getting out of bed. I was a wreck, and I knew it. The room was a disaster. Piles of unwashed clothes and rotting fast food flooded the floor beneath me. Tissues from last week's outburst still lay there on the ground. I stumbled out of my bedroom, barely making my way to the bathroom. I turned the light on. Roaches, both alive and dead, infested the damned place. They liked residing next to the leaky faucet. I looked at myself in a cracked mirror. I hadn't shaved in weeks. My eyes were bloodshot red, half due to tears and half due to sleeplessness. I pounded my fist on the wall as hard as I could.
I never felt so hopeless.
But then I heard something. A ringing. I checked my pocket for my old flip-phone. My buddy Rich just texted me. "All-Female Sports show premiering in 2014"
For the first time in years, I cracked a smile. The day had come. The day I had been waiting for. I walked outside and everything seemed... brighter. More clear. I could see children off in the distance, playing a game of hopscotch. Couples passed by me, sharing a laugh. Birds flew over my head, and gusts of wind came crashing down on my skin. This was it. Peace. All fears and doubts had washed away in a blink of an eye. Life was to begin anew, forevermore beautiful and with true purpose.