light on my shoulders

I woke up too early this morning but I was drenched in warm yellow sunlight, and the dust floated on the heat from the radiator, sparkling like glitter. I think it was a miracle God wanted me to see. The apartment is empty, but I can hear the faintest music drifting in through the window. I got up and took my meds and sprayed the tub with mold killer. I toasted my cinnamon raison bagel.

There's a violent, ugly bruise on the inside of my elbow where they pricked the vein for my blood test. There's sky blue paint in irregular smears all across my forearm from the bedroom painting job of a friend of a friend. There's a slashed pink scar across my wrist, fresh but healing, from what my therapist calls "intense anger turned inward."

That feels like a more accurate representation of my emotions than anything else I could say about them. It's January and I'm still alive. I'm sitting in sunlight.