After the good times comes the return to normalcy, which I always manage to take hard. So I remind myself to breathe and haul my heavy bones to school, to friends, to lessons. And I get by, I really do. I take neat notes and tilt my head towards the skinny winter sunlight, I arrange my books into piles on every desk I sit at, I listen to people talk.
And suddenly I find myself talking too. For a while it sounds shrill and forced, but then I slide out of myself and into the world, remembering how things feel when they're easy.
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