Today, for the first time in years, I felt truly hopeful. The heaviness in my chest has not gone yet, and I do not think it ever will, but somehow I’m learning to bear its weight. Waking up this morning didn’t seem so hard, unlike those many other dawns when all I could do was curse at the world for not taking me in my sleep. The voices in my head sounded wistful, still, but they were gentler now, and kinder, like my mother’s tenderness after a fight. My head remains unclear, but today I found myself breathing and it didn’t feel like the painful gasp before a quiet, hidden sob.

I could breathe, and the stale, humid air never felt better.


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