Basement bedrooms teach you life lessons.

Spending a year in your basement, and rarely coming out, teaches you a lot about people. 

The ones that say they got your back, but you get jammed up and can’t find them. 

The ones that spend forever phone talking to you;

And giving you superb advice on why to come down from the ledge. 

And the ones who actually visit daily just to make sure you're still good. 

My brother told me what God already explained:

All suffering is valid. 

And just because I'm not dying doesn't mean I don't get to complain. 

How I complain more about my life being stagnant?

Than the boy with cancer complains about his life being short. 

And that's okay because pain rarely follows rules. 

I never even learned his name. 

But he told me something I hold ever so closely:

On those days when I wish I'd never woken up,

I'm allowed to scream and ask why it's happening to good people like myself. 

But I must make sure I know where the line is, 

Between giving my darkness a voice and 

Pitying myself.