Three months. I feel like part of me can say I'm doing better. I feel like I'm not struggling to breathe as much.
I know deep down that I've pushed the entire thing down. I don't really want to process it fully. I give it to myself in waves. I know one day it's all going to come to me. It's probably going to break me. I'm scared of that.
I've said I'm not scared of death before, and that's partially true. See, I have two mindsets. When I wake up, it's a hit or miss what side of me shows that day. You can either get happy or so blunt that you never want to talk to me again.
I am right now, but I'm also not. Live for my family. Live for your life.
