If I could have my way, I'd sit in my room and cry and listen to punk rock as loud as I can for a month or so, and I would come out of the hole (literally and figuratively) a new woman.
If I could have my way, I'd snort vicodin until my nose bleeds and my soul is numb.
If I could have my way, I'd stab myself in the heart with something long and dull, maybe a screwdriver.
If I could have my way, I'd slice my arms with razorblades just to watch the blood flow.
If I could have my way, I'd dance naked in the snow until my skin is red and raw and the pain is gone.
If I could have my way, I'd lie in the bathtub for hours and pretend the world is gone.
But I can't have my way. Life isn't like that. You get what you get and it's rarely what you want, so you have to try to suck it up and push through, make do with what you have. You have to make the situation you're in be the situation you want, or you'll spend you life wishing for something else, and miss what you've got. One day it will all be over and you'll have nothing to show because you'll have wished your whole life away.
I'm cracked but not broken. I'm dying but not dead. I'm sick but I'm healing. I'm alone but not lonely. I'm a work in progress; this is just one misthrow of the potter's wheel.