Daytimes are all right once you're up and moving. There is the delight in daily things, in things you learn and foods you eat and people you see. Every few minutes brings a tiny surge of excitement that propels you forward, so that you jerk onwards through the day in spurts and sprints that flag only when you run out of novelties. Then you have nothing left to react to, nothing external that'll squat in the rooms of your mind. Instead your insidious thoughts ooze up through the floorboards and under the door.
This is evening. The energy has not yet run out but the happiness has. The fresh flow of delight is curdled by a growing awareness of your own faults. There is the agitation, the racing thoughts, the struggle to get through the evening intact. The daily fight of your body versus your mind. Sometimes your mind wins. Your body's best tactic is to go to sleep.
You wake to the hollow inertia of despair. You wake early because you slept early, having decided that sleep was less harmful than anything else you might do. You lie in bed in the morning for maybe one hour, maybe three. Sometimes you don't get up at all.
You never do anything much because you are never calm enough for thinking. Even your daytime excitement is a crazed sort of agitation that you can barely control. You wonder, in those despairing morning hours, whether there's anything you can do to fix this. You think not. How can you eliminate turmoil when everything in the world is a trigger?
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