I had big hopes for this year. I still do. However, the difference is those hopes have been modified from the impossible, unrealistic ones I had grasped for as I fled 2013, and have reformed as smaller, realistic, and somehow more magnificent hopes – ones that may one day manifest.
It’s been less than two days since my counsellor and Mrs Blackbird both agreed that I need to take a month’s stress leave to buffer my depression, but I already feel like the ice beneath the fine powder of yesterday’s first snow – cracking. Having to take ‘stress leave’ is
“Rain fell too, on the day they took you from me. It was not like this rain, which struck the dirty window and filled the barren room with its rhythm. That rain was different: flooding my thoughts, and driving me into a frenzy. I supposed that was why they took
On the high-pain days, the world seems to shrink a little smaller, and I am left with the dilemma of how to inhabit my body when it is such a source of pain. As if mirroring my inner world, as I learn to feel emotions long-suppressed, wave after wave of