Some days are harder to breathe…

Than others. Some days I look at the dishes in the sink, and laundry unfolded and crumpled in the basket and hang my head at the seemingly insurmountable. Some nights I look in the mirror, unable to shake the feeling of hopelessness that I can lose weight or workout. Then I eat more, or drink something to help me float into a lovely apathetic cocoon of indifference. Then the guilt sets in. Then I sleep. Only to wake up after an hour or two. Take in my dark surroundings and pray for the light. It’s like a gorilla on my chest. It’s arms full of baggage that Ive carried since I can remember with no where to unpack. It’s bitterness. It’s anger. It’s grief. It’s depression and everyday that I open my eyes, is an opportunity to fight it.

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