It's weird how life works. It tears you down till you are nothing but a pile of worthlessness, but then it will rebuild you piece by piece in a slow monotonous way that you don't even notice till you are whole again. I didn't know I was being rebuilt as I attended my weekly therapy session or when I got my meaningless wooden chip for being 40 weeks sober. Those things just became apart of my life and I didn't think much of it.
I had moved away from everything I knew, to start over. Something I needed not only for me but for the others around me. I was a mess and I was hurting the ones that loved me. I moved to London because someone special told me to do what makes me happy and moving made me 'happy' to an extent. My days were still bland and emotionless. I was sober and my head was clear
