how to start over.

1. scrub the vomit off your shoes and leave
them to dry—make sure the dog doesn't
pee on them

2. brush your teeth as hard as you can, until
blood leaves patterns on your porcelain sink;
wash your hands until they burn

3. watch that mirror like it's your computer
monitor and you're about to spend hours on
the internet; realize that's your reflection

4. (if you start crying, don't hold it back—let
each tear that falls on your hoodie carry a piece
of that old soul you were getting to know)

5. comb your hair—get it looking just right,
even if it's eleven pm and you're not going
anywhere but your bedroom

6. grab that pen, that extension of yourself, and
try to explain each crack in your stone frame
to the page as eloquently as you can

7. post it online—wait for people to acknowledge
the chips in your face, the off-color paint job on
your clothing

8. force a smile—one so big it hurts—the japanese
say that pottery is more beautiful for having
been broken, and so are you