August 2020 I wanted to die. There’s no cute way to say it nor are there any elaborate, beautiful, metaphorical bits of prose I can construct to illustrate the beginnings of the hardest part of my life to date.
There were no silver linings, and barely any good days. I’d curse the sun out the moment I opened my eyes simply because I did.
I no longer felt that I had a rooted reason to live, and then weeks later that changed when a three pound ball of energetic and chaotic fur fell into my lap.
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