I am spilling out of myself and I don't know how to stop. Hold in my guts, hands to my stomach, trying to pile myself back into my body. Hands on my head, pressing shut the split that is reaching from occipital to forehead and allowing my brain to roam. Get in, what was in, get in and please stay there.
I have been talking to people that go away. I know they go away. I try to talk to them and they disappear. Don't take it personally; I'm just not who they thought I was.
Mostly my life has been settling. I know what I have done. I know there's no way to undo it. I know I have to move on. It feels like I am. Hole in my sternum lets the sun dry out my heart. Hole in my sternum reminds me that I have a heart.
What is whole?
Lately I've been feeling different. Good different. I am actively aware of my lack of depression. This is something that I think the typical person might take for granted. But I feel it like a phantom limb. My phantom feeling. It used to be there but isn't anymore. I get sad, but I don't get despondent. I am disappointed, but I don't despair.This is new to me.
I don't feel the passionate longing for Pants anymore. I hope that lasts. I can't guarantee that it will, but it's definitely easier these days to not think about him. He feels small to me now. Insignificant. This is a big difference from a week ago, so I am not convinced that this feeling will continue unabated. But I know that eventually it will be the baseline. This will be how he is to me all the time. He will be another memory and nothing more than that.
I have let my illness define me. It's nearly impossible not to do that when it so heavily influences your life constantly. But with this new sensation of not-depressed, maybe I can just be me now instead of a nest of adjectives.
I feel hopeful.
I feel hopeful, and it is wonderful.
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