The weather outside is frightful. Today is supposedly the most depressing day of the year. Thankfully, compared to last week's astronomical levels of apathy, this week was a bed of roses.
I wrote back in November about the feeling of crushing, crippling fear that lets you know you're alive and you have something to lose. I lost even that. Last week I genuinely wouldn't have cared if I was moving forwards, backwards or downwards, but now the pain is going, the numbness is fading, and life must go on. When a friend told me that if he could invest in me and my probable bright future, he would, and even my high-achieving, hard-hitting parents were both sympathetic and refusing to let me wallow in equal measures, I thought it was high time to come back. Nobody should be able to make me feel like my life isn't a gift, and worth fighting for. And continue fighting for, until eventually I win.