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Monday, 10 April 2017


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So, I'm sitting here, with my eyes closing gently and opening slowly, all sparkly and green (as they tend to be when I'm in a higher state of mood), and my bottle of apple cider emptied. 0.75L of 6% apple, dry and timely. The day I'm groovin' to grime music, you know there's gonna be just a teeny-tiny trouble around where I am. Just a tiny, again  timely (I'll tell you why in a sec) and tasty, still vegan, though (this time, at least  ya know, alcohol loosens your sense of responsibility a bit).

Long story short, I thought I fell in love last spring. A year ago, when I was the lowest in my depression. When I thought of not wanting to live and wanting it all to be over. When I thought of "killing myself" from different points of view, from different philosophical standpoints on death, if you will; when I thought in categories "kill yourself" or "get over it once and for all". And in three weeks exactly it'll be the day I got over it once and for all, a year ago. I didn't kill myself then, I won't kill myself ever. Did the sun shine in May of 2016? Oh yes, it did. Did the people around me show their support? Omfg yes. Yes, they did. Did it all seem like a terrible, impossible, worst nightmare ever? I knew, it was real  the way I felt the entire winter till the 1st of May '16  but, yes, it did. It seemed like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from, couldn't shake off, couldn't bear any longer or I would, you know… would I?

So. It's April and it's gorgeous. It's as if my happiest moments gathered into a show reel and decided to prove me wrong for having to suffer that much. I have two windows in my new room: one opens to a quiet bystreet, through the other I CAN SEE THE RIVER. Yeah, it's totally cool, though the caps lock was accidental and totally unnecessary. Right now I can hear seagulls screaming. Love 'em. Anyway, the mere fact that I can afford a room of my own, where I can be secure no one comes in, and the two windows are both mine for looking into at the blue sky and the river? Last year's me couldn't dream of any of that. Last year's me was afraid of staying at home. She'd spend her days off hanging out at work or nearby not to have to stay at home alone. She'd be terrified at the thought of having to spend a day without anyone by her side, anyone talking, later - anyone listening, when she gradually learnt to speak aloud about what she'd been going through and that it was not easy, more honestly  terrible, most honestly  unbearable.

And you, the person who listened, the guy who admitted life could suck as much as others wouldn't think possible, the one who asked any questions at all and who made me smile just because  I thought I fell in love with you. A couple months later I thought the same. A few more - and it's been a year, and I'm listening to the music you post (because, man, you got taste), and I'm drinking apple cider and groovin', because, man…