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Dear T,
I feel like a total slacker... You tell me that I'm making progress, that I've made much progress already, but I don't feel like I'm doing enough because whatever I'm doing in regards to my mental health doesn't feel like "real hard work", so... well, I guess that's why I feel like I'm goofing off somehow. I keep thinking that if I made more of an effort, I would be "normal", "sane", "fixed" already. But you say that we can't push too hard with certain things. I know you're not lying or misleading me, I certainly know you don't. Argh, why can't I have a magic wand to make my brain "okay", whatever that means.
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"When I wake up in the morning, a pure white curtain of lace is rustling in the breeze. The cuckoo clock in the room says it’s seven o’clock, and Mom’s voice says: “You’ll be late if you don’t get up!” I’m still half-asleep, and I think: “Please let me sleep for three more minutes.” I’m late for school every single day, like clockwork. My teacher makes me stand out in the hallway, and I get failing grades on my tests. The crepes we’d all eat on the way home. We’d gaze dreamily at a party dress in a store window. The little things bring so much joy and I’m happy.
I wish I could go back to that kind of normal life. I want to go back." (c) Sailor Moon
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