Me? I'm fine.
Eventually, I will be, anyway.
Decided that perhaps I don't remember the last time that I was happy or sad or felt anything.
I don't know why I hadn't noticed it sooner, this feeling of blah, of just existing.
Caved at the doctor's office, felt like I was pleading for something, anything.
And they all told me how strong I was, how smart I was to know this feeling, to ask for help.
They don't know how weak and vulnerable I feel.
Especially now, when I thought I had beat it so long ago, when I thought this was over.