But I think compared to a couple of years ago, I am 10% happier. I’m still depressed and have migraines, and my energy levels are mostly fucked, but there’s a noticeable 10% improvement overall.
Also, there’s a certain joy that comes from seeing reality as it is, versus the delusional joy that sustained me in SF.
Sometimes I don’t think of writing because it’s so mundane, but I do think every day is worth noting, because my thoughts change every single day. My being, I am a different person. Like the person who felt so much pain felt so far away today.
My stability is precious, and I know, and these days I keep thinking about the glass is already broken, and that is sort of what that keeps me cherishing every mundane day I have. I love mundane days because they represent peace, peace that is so foreign to me.