Six months ago I would never guessed that I would be here. I was crying alone in a tiny room, resenting the air that I breathe in. I did not go out of my room, let alone the house. I was determined that no one cared. No one would help.

I was thinking of a short cut. Maybe there is. Maybe I can do it.

Maybe.

I was broken in so many places. I couldn’t put myself back together. After several attempts, I didn’t even bother trying.

I stopped talking. I stopped being fun. I can’t even laugh out loud. I didn’t bother much about eating. I resented company. I hated everything.

I existed. Pretty much.

The change came swiftly. I wanted it to happen so much that I covered it with a lie. I felt guilty but that’s the only way that I can survive. I want to properly breathe again.

It’s amazing how I can almost be whole again.

It’s nice to laugh again.

It’s nice to move again.

It’s nice to breathe again.

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