It’s 3am

My sweater rests on my body, wet with tears from my most recent breakdown. I can’t feel the moisture, but I can see it now that I’m staring myself down in the mirror. It’s 3am. “Stop. Stop this,” I manage to whisper, barely audible. “This isn’t helping. This won’t change anything. Worrying doesn’t change anything.Continue reading “It’s 3am”