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My body doesn’t feel like it’s mine anymore.
I’m numb and I’m afraid to be anything else but numb.
I’m numb. I can be numb and move. I can be numb and do things. Go places. Right? Maybe.
scrub at my arms and legs, wishing I could clean myself, but I’ve already learned it doesn’t matter how many times I wash my body, I still feel dirty.
Mental health isn’t something you can see or fix. It’s ongoing. There’s a spectrum. There will always be good days and bad days.

