Hearing the tweets of birds heralding dawn gives me mad anxiety. Another day, another bout of existential anxiety. Another day with mad questions hovering over me with no answers in my pockets. Another day glaring at me with too much shame to look back at it. Another day of counting the hours until it’s nightfall and too late for people to come around. Another day of watching myself watch my life run out before my eyes and not having anything substantial to prove my efforts. Another day of waking up groggy and body aching from fibromyalgia flare-ups. Another day of reliving the past 13 years. Another day of wondering whether today’s the day I get to break out of this mental prison. Another day of trying my very best to keep despair at bay.
Another day to fill the hours with writing.