If they’d been talking to the real me, they wouldn’t have been impressed by the fact that it took every inch of strength for me to pull myself out of bed each morning. For a while, I wondered if it was this hard for everyone—getting up each day, dragging oneself out of bed. There were days when all I wanted to do was bury myself deeper into the blankets and not emerge from my room until weeks had passed. I couldn’t sleep, but I wanted to sit there in bed, alone with my dark mind.
