Some days I get into this spiral where I am myself but again not myself, a sort of dissociative state when the world around me feels unreal and what is real is only what is roaring within my mind. Times like these I seek an outlet, and writing usually does the trick of quelling the neuronic beasts.
It’s been quiet, peaceful. Apart from a couple of minor ups and downs, and a couple of episodes, it’s been good. In the sense that it’s consistent… And, freeing.