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I am amazed, yet again, that I’ve found the courage to get out of bed.

You have no idea how hard it is.

This sustained internal struggle.

The conscious effort required to motivate myself to move.

The strength of belief needed to convince my anxious brain that we can get through the day unscathed.

It’s exhausting.

If only I could return to the naivety of the past.

Travel back to a time when sadness was mere affectation.

Where melancholy was a comforting friend.

And death wasn’t such a viable option.

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