I wanted to be able to say,
“I’m doing so much better than the last time that you saw me.
I go to sleep by ten, sometimes later on the weekend.
And I feel so connected to everything and everyone. It’s exhilarating.”
But that would be a lie. I’m doing a little better. But I’m just not that guy.
It’s tough being around you because you knew me back when.
Back when I was funnier and brighter, not just bummed out and tired.
These expectations are killing me.
Like I’m supposed to be someone I wish I could be.
I’m not quite better but I’m getting there.
And in a quiet moment, I find I kind of like myself.
And some days the anger returns and I have to find a reason to smile.
Because you’re only as stable as your last breakdown.
And I don’t think I’m able to understand the world right now.
I’m not quite better but I’m getting there.
I’m not quite better yet.
I’m not quite better but I’m getting there.

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS