Turn on the lights.

that’s hard to explain, you know. that the numbness effects your humor, too. that, sure, you’ll laugh at things, but it feels tight, tiny, like you should be happy but you’re squeezing joy through a pinhole. sometimes you look at things and think: i should like this. i should feel good when i look at this. i should find this cute or funny or heartwarming. but you feel nothing.

it’s hard to track recovery. we live by the day. measure only how well we did in 24 hours. sometimes look as far as a week. we just keep walking. the first thing i got back was crying. you wouldn’t think you’d miss crying - painful, ugly, draining, plain annoying - but i did. i missed crying. for a long while i was sort of grateful to be crying over any small thing.