I'm Back Again (Not There)

Nope. [guitar stops] Not today. [bright strum] Fuck, I’ll take it. [Verse I — warm rebel-acoustic, light percussion sneaking in] Woke up expecting yesterday to still be sitting on my chest. Opened one eye cautiously like, “Okay, asshole—do your best.” But nothing. Just the ceiling. Morning traffic down the street. One ear folded underneath me, blanket tangled in my feet. Made coffee. Didn't save me. Didn't fucking need to. It was coffee. Hot and bitter, little too much cream— And good. That's all. Just good. And somewhere halfway through the cup I realized I could breathe. I'm back again. [beat] But not there. I'm back here. With me. [Verse II — bass enters, playful rhythm; cautious happiness becoming real] I put on music while I dressed. Didn't care what song came next. Found both boots on the first try— Which honestly felt fucking blessed. Walked downstairs. Somebody smiled. I smiled back without deciding. Nobody yelled “Cut!” Nobody praised me. Nobody asked why I was smiling. And yesterday still happened. Yeah. I know. I'm not pretending that it didn't just because today feels light. There are days the cage finds me. There are days I win that fight. And apparently there are mornings when the cage can go fuck itself— 'Cause I'm back again. Not back there again. Back inside my fucking self. [Verse III — brighter acoustic strumming, drums opening up; joyful but deliberately not triumphant] I used to think getting better meant eventually staying good. Like one morning I'd wake healed and everything would work like it should. That's bullshit. Some days hurt. Some days don't. Some days flowers aren't enough. Some days seven-dollar daisies are the greatest fucking stuff. Yesterday I closed the curtains. Today I threw them wide. Neither one means I'm succeeding. Neither one means that I've lied. Maybe healing isn't climbing. Maybe there isn't any track. Maybe sometimes you're just somewhere— Then tomorrow you come back. And today? I'm back again. [little laugh] No parentheses needed. Well— Maybe one. (NOT THERE!) [Verse IV — full warm band, stomping rhythm begins beneath her signature boots] So I'm taking the good day. Every stupid piece of it. Sunlight. Coffee. Music. Someone telling me my hair looks like shit. [beat] It does. I like it. I'm gonna walk somewhere pointless. Maybe spend six ninety-five. Maybe call somebody later just because they're in my life. And if tomorrow knocks me sideways, that won't make today untrue. If one word sends me backward— I'll eventually come through. I don't owe the world consistency. I don't have to always win. Some days surviving fucking sucks. Some days? [first boot stomp] THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. It's fun again. [second] THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. So turn it up. [third] THUMP. THUMP. thump. Yeah. Here I fucking am. I found me. Hi. Thump Thump Thump. [Outro — everything drops except acoustic guitar; echoes the ending of “One Word,” but warmer] Yesterday one word and I was back again. Today I woke up... and I was back again. [pause] Thump Thump Thump Different meaning. Funny how that works. The bad day happened. I'm not erasing it. There'll probably be another. But this one's good. And fuck— [small laugh] I'll take it when it comes. Thump Thump Thump FuFu -- Rebecca-- That's me. Here I am. Thump Thump Thump