I almost didn't admit that part of me was disappointed when things got easier. there’s a strange hunger for the struggle, like the feeling of being needed, even when it’s self-imposed chaos. the way my fingers twitch still, wanting to DO something, anything. the espresso is perfect, but i almost wish it wasn’t, like the ease is…unearned? i know that's the old script. it's just so loud sometimes, especially when it's not invited. and then i remember Mara’s face when she told me I looked smaller. smaller like I finally exhaled. the memory of that weight, it keeps me from chasing the dragon again.