Day 217

I’m still trying to get my bearings after Sunday’s dedications.

Part of me wants to grab a bottle of Tito’s and hide under a bridge or take to my tower to sleep for a hundred years. Unconsciousness has an appeal. The ghosts of my nightmares cling to me, clawing at my tender parts. They are terrifying, but they are also the only place I get to see Constance.

I know I have to be engaged and around people to work, to live, to thrive. I think of a million happy memories and try to peel myself out of bed. Before the trolls of negativity grab me, I reflect on Constance's strength, and I sit up.

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