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To my love, happy monthly anniversary. A hard month with my wight getting to me again, hollowing me out until everything feels distant and I'm at the end of a long corridor away from life and love. I return from that swamp gasping and weary. I don't see the miracle of being alive, and I'm sorry when I go away that far. I'm here now. I'm sleeping better. I'm eating better. I feel how everyone I think feels all the time, whatever we call normal. I'm grateful for your patience because I know this can be trying. I feel stronger now, and I believe things are picking up.