January.
A dose of sunrises. I usually detest Januaries because they are beginnings, empty beginnings that open a book of blank white pages ready to be filled with memories, moments of happiness and sadness. This whole feeling of emptiness agitates me, and makes me anxious because I have no idea how to fill the book with worthwhile words and captivating occurrences.. and yes, as I had expected, I lived through the first weeks of January in anxiety and confusion. I didn't know where I was going, there were no signs, the obscurities never unravelled, they stayed vague through the chilly days and fearful nights. Two weeks ago, I was so close to relapsing. I was a silhouette full of darkness, compressed anger and frustration. My energy was busting and exploding fumes that choked me until I grew weak and vulnerable; there was only hatred to feel towards myself. Nothing was enough. There was no pleasure in the accomplishments, in the rising suns and the shimmering stars. Where was I going...