19 March 2014
I am perhaps repeating my images, and my self. But it has been a steady day, and here I found a small pocket of time, enough to type this short letter to you, to say that I’m here, and that I’ve been better. Am better.
Thank you for your letters, which have been my comfort, a place I return to when I couldn’t understand the world around me. Here there’s clarity, and acceptance, and a measure of peace that I can’t find anywhere else. It is like looking outside the window when I read your words–it reminds me to turn outward, even for just this moment, to recognise that the pit in my mind where I reside is just that–in my mind. I don’t have to live in it if it hurts me, if it disregards my deep desire to get better.
I have been working steadily for the past few hours, and after this I will take some rest and visit my room/office, where I have been putting my books back on the shelves, bit by bit, day by day. It’s a difficult task, in the sense that despair is a constant companion–but that’s my obsessive-compulsiveness being overwhelmed, the want to arrange things, a proper order, and how my mind shuffles constantly on what blueprint to choose (do I arrange alphabetically? by genre? chronologically? etc).
I’ll take a photo when I’m done.
Sending you love.