That little glow of comfort lasted me right through the evening but was gone when I woke up next morning. Wakings are the worst times — almost before my eyes are open a great weight seems to roll on to my heart. I can usually roll it off a bit during the day — for one thing, food helps quite a lot, unromantic as that sounds. I have grown more and more ravenous as I have grown more and more miserable. Sleep is wonderful, too — I never thought of it as a pleasure before, but now I long for it. The best time of all is before I fall asleep at night, when I can hold the thought of Simon close to me
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This seems like depression but not quite.
