THERE IS something wrong. There is something incredibly not right with the way I woke up. It’s wrong because, in the midst of trying to be fully awakened, I feel somehow light. Like I don’t have the heavy rock bottom lodged deep within my dead heart. Like I’m not made out of something worthless, and it drives me to self-hate. For the first time in my life, I wake up, with the feeling of something akin to joy. Joy? Ugh. What a pretentious emotion. I don’t feel joy. My life is bleak. It’s dark. It’s depressing. It’s full of blood and war, years of agony, and the end of everything. I don’t feel joy because I’m incapable of doing it.
Then why the hell am I feeling so light right now? Why is it, that when the sun shines through the curtains, I don’t feel the need to wrap myself in my comforter
