I feel the warmth of the sun through the windows on my skin before the light penetrates the thick curtains of my eyelids. Heavy with sleep, my eyelids flutter, my eyes focus on the source of this warmth and then just as quickly close, and I’m still not sure whether I’m awake yet or asleep. ...
January 4, 2019
All who want to die in any given moment feel crippling disconnection... but the silence of shame and the disease of perfectionism keeps us from saying it.