I remember when I was a girl being excited to wake up every morning. It was as if every day was a gift I’d use my sleepy eyelids to open-eager to experience whatever adventures the day would bring. I try to hold onto that passion, for being alive, but I lost it a long time ago.
I don’t know how to get it back. Mornings bring me knots in my gut – now sleeping is my favorite time of day – my nightmares used to scare me – but they aren’t as gutting as real life has been. I don’t know how to find my happy again. I need to get my foundations back, I need my roots to grow, I don’t know where I belong. I don’t think I have for a long time.