Getting Better Poem by Fernanda Ontiveros

Just when I thought I was getting better I realized I was as lost as before.

A sudden dew of my true self, then darkness and an eerie whisper of my subconscious wandering through this soul of mine, telling me to avoid, to vanish and conquer the underworld. But if I'm swarming in this, a present time, who grants me the understanding of another dimension? Who assures me that disappearance would ease my mind?

It is a sick world and it hurts, it bleeds, it yells, it demands and it echoes in each one of us. We are all the sons of a desire created in grief and I, just I, am creature creeping in a soil full of my own dirt, we are all creeping in our own dirty universe. And just when we think we are better, hope sways to hell, because no living thing fully comprehends the nature of being alive.