I wonder how many beautiful, capable bodies and minds have been washed away by not being cared for enough, valued too little.
I’m having a period of days where each has been better than the last. I feel like I rolled the dice on my wellness so many times and, for once, I got the right combination of things. It has taken me years, 5 or more, of constant diligence and self exploration and self-cognitive reconditioning and restructuring and discipline to feel even half like a functional person. Everything I do is finally starting to pay off. Finally it feels less like random, fearful and reluctant trial and error and more like progress. I feel good about myself. I like my art and my music. I like how I look. But mostly, I feel, I feel better, I feel good, but most of all I feel (something) instead of nothing. I am not entirely absent, searching through a thick fog inside myself. I am no longer scraping aimlessly through waves of mist just for a momentary glimpse out my own eye-holes. I felt like a person inside a person looking for a way out, a way to be. My insides felt hollow and sick, consumed by illness. Now I feel that I am swelling, becoming, almost too large for my corporeal form to contain all that I am and wish to be.