'Five Good Things', by Haley Schmid

This has been previously published in EPIC Literary Magazine.

Five good things. Go. 

1. It was boiling outside.

      1. My sunglasses are only slightly cracked.

1. It was a sunny day.

2. A girl smiled at me when I held the door open for her.

3. I’ll be on time to class.

4. Maybe I’ll talk to the skateboarding guy who sits next to me.

5. Nothing bad happened yet.

      5. Today will be a good day.

Everyday I think of five good things on my way to class. If I mess up, I rewrite it. 

I think my last therapist would be proud of me. 

I go to class. There’s someone else in my seat. I sit in the back corner instead. Far away from people. Far away from Skateboard Guy. It fits, somehow. 

Class ends. I go to the next one. 

Class ends. I go to the next one. 

Class ends. I go home. 

1. It was colder outside.

2. I passed my quiz.

3. I failed my other one.

      3. There’s free food at the event tonight (Like I need it).

4. I got someone’s number.

5. I only bled a little after falling down.

      5. I saw someone as miserable as I am.

      5. Tomorrow is Saturday.

I go to class. They run out of seats. I sit on the floor. 

I go to class. I count the amount of times I blink. I get up to nine hundred and twenty-three. Approximately 18.5 blinks per minute. 

I go to class. I see someone in a football jersey. I dig my nails into my arm to keep myself calm. 

I breathe in. I breathe out. I tell myself I can continue. 

I continue. 

Class ends. I go home and cry. 

1. It was a Saturday.

2. A new restaurant is opening soon.

3. I could get ahead of homework.

4. I’m alone.

      4. I have the dorm to myself.

1. I have no friends.

      5. I have nothing to do tonight.

      5. The possibilities are endless!

I stay in bed until it’s dark outside. 

Rinse and repeat. 

Five good things. Go. 

1. It was a warm day.

2. I have an exam later.

      2.  I have an easy presentation.

3. I got a new plant.

4. I had food poisoning.

      4.  I tried something new.

5. The math homework was easy.

The good things were getting harder to come up with. 

1. I drew a picture today.

2. I remembered to wash my dishes.

3. I’m alone.

      3. I’m single, ready to mingle.

4. That show is making a spin-off (It won’t be as good as the original).

5. I wasn’t late to class.

1. I have to get out of bed soon.

1. Class starts soon.

1. The sooner I’m out, the sooner I can get back.

1. If I really try, I can get out of bed.

2. Maybe tomorrow will be easier.

      4. My roommate is too loud.

      4. I have company.

      5. The week is almost over.

      2. It’s a Monday.

      2. It's the start of a new week.

      3. Oliver Prince’s new album sucked.

      3. My favorite artist made more songs.

      4. It snowed again.

      4. It looks nice outside.

      5.   It’s cold as shit.

      5.   My boots aren’t waterproof.

      5.   It’s hot chocolate season.

1. …

I wake up. I go to class. I count my five good things. I see someone who looks like him. I breathe in. I breathe out. I tell myself I can continue. 

I continue. 

I go to class. I wear a half-assed Halloween costume. I pass tests. I fail tests. I sit in the dark and count my five good things. My roommate talks to me. My roommate doesn’t say a word. I leave. She leaves. I sit in the dark some more. I breathe and breathe and breathe. 

 I tell myself I can continue. 

I can’t. 

I lie in the dark and cry. I stay very still and cry and cry and cry. I breathe, hard. I cry until it hurts and breathe like I’m never going to again. 

I don’t remember moving. I don’t remember going to class, but I do. I go to class. I count ceiling tiles and letters on the board and chips in the paint instead of five good things. 

I still breathe though. In and out. Heavy enough that it sounds like a sigh, but at least I do it. 

Class ends. I go home. 

Rinse and repeat.

I go to class. I breathe. I sit still. I leave. 

Rinse and repeat.

I go to class. I think of fairy tales. Specifically Alice in Wonderland. “Five impossible things before breakfast” is what she told herself. My five good things make a bit more sense now.

I give them another try.

1. I’m failing school.

2. I’ll have to retake classes.

3. I wasted my time.

4. My parents are disappointed in me.

Then another.

1. I’ll do better next time.

1. I can do this.

2. This isn’t the end.

3. I’m breathing.

4. I’m alive.

I go to class. I focus. I take notes and count the numbers I’m supposed to. I study. I relapse and sit in the dark.

I still breathe, just not as heavily. 

I count my five good things. I go to class. Someone sits next to me this time. I read the assignment. I do homework. I go home and talk to my roommate. 

Rinse and repeat. 

My grades improve. I go to class. I participate. I make a joke. People laugh. I count it as one of my good things. I remember to breathe. I hang out with my roommate sometimes. I count it as another good thing. 

Rinse and repeat.

I go to class. I talk to Skateboard Guy. I catch up on homework. I remember to breathe and count.  

I sit in the dark. I go for a walk. I get ahead of classwork. Skateboard Guy gives me his number. I go out to eat with friends. 

I forget to count my five things sometimes. 

I go to class. I don’t sit as still. I ask questions. I laugh. Skateboard Guy asks me out.

I breathe in. I breathe out. I ask myself if I can continue. 

I can. 


Haley Schmid is a recent graduate with a degree in Literature and a passion for creative writing.

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Photography by Suzy Hazelwood