Automatic

The Lavender Cashmere candle flickers as you sit on the cold tile floor of your dorm room. You dream of escape, of a life three years from now where this moment is just a memory. 

And, in three years, the song Automatic from The Lumineers will play through your AirPods as you close your eyes and open them to face the reality of your life in beautiful pieces you never knew would fit together.

Your days will still be hard sometimes. 

You’ll hide your depressive episodes because progress should have been made, and the therapy and the medications and the laughs should be enough of a cure. 

You won’t tell your mom and dad about the days you don’t get out of bed because you know they’d treat it like the big deal that it is. 

Your brother, tipsy and teary-eyed at his crowded frat party, will pull you into a hug, slurring an apology for words he never should have spoken—the words that almost convinced you to once again forfeit the beautiful life awaiting you. 

Uncertainty will follow you, just as it did in that dorm room, and your tears will fall for the future you still struggle to picture. 

You will gain weight and lose it and gain it until you look at yourself in the mirror and watch tears fall in disgust for how far you’ve let yourself go. 

You’ll fall in love and fall out of it. 

Rain will fall, the sun will shine, and you’ll let someone new dictate your worth, fighting for your autonomy— while knowing you have it all along. 

You’ll lose faith and regain it. 

You’ll wonder if the cloud will ever go away, if you’ll ever experience happiness without sadness looming in the background. 

You’ll love your people and love them well even when you feel there’s no more love left to give. 

You’ll still feel emotions deeper than anyone else. 

You’ll crack jokes to mask the pain, hiding in plain sight. 

Your parents will retire and you’ll know their love in a new way—undistracted. 

You’ll crash your car, and you’ll be okay.

You’ll hold hands with someone new and fall asleep next to them, knowing in a week they won’t be there. 

You’ll know darkness, and you’ll know light. 

You will learn to love yourself despite all of your flaws. 

You will try to leave, but God will force you to stay. 

Three years later, the same Lavender Cashmere candle will flicker as you stare at the memories on your wall in the room that brings you peace.

Because in three years, life won’t be Automatic, lover, you are enough, and you will always be enough.