Prologue to Progress
I'm doing much better than I thought.
Sure I still have that knack of cleaning at stupid o'clock in the morning, but at least I have a clean living space and I have almost never been able to clear things properly. Depression doesn't allow for tidy bedrooms and good health. It doesn't let you maintain a space where you feel at ease; unless you're tripping over your own clothes in the dark after trying to clear your tired eyes that are squinting into the black vastness that is the place where you hope to sleep... but don't get it much at all.
It gets painful to breathe when you're exhausted.
I may still feel too tired to walk properly on an hours sleep, but they're occurring less, which I think is progress. And I may not be able to feel the cold anymore, but I can still feel the warmth resonating from the coffee cup that I got just before a successful meeting. And I'm glad. I can be on my own but I don't think I feel particularly lonely. I have people that love me, who are behind me on anything I do.
I am comfortable.
At my home away from home,
I'm finally doing just fine.
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