I am doing better than I was on the physical things, but my brain seems fried. It’s a big dark room that is completely empty and then it is a small hall closet with all of the board games crammed away in it. The more I think, the more I’m lost. The less I think, the more I’m empty. I’m working to find my way with the help of therapy and my good best friend. Sorry for spilling like that anon.
ambedo n. a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life.