Sometimes, I still feel like I’m back in that apartment. Where I’m gasping for breath, eyes burning with tears, head throbbing from the sound of my own whimper, just searching for a warm hand to hold and turning up empty handed.

And even though, Michigan is 800 miles away from me, within a moment, my head is dragged right back into the small space with four white walls, alone.

Everywhere I turn here, there is a hand to hold. A friend, a family member, a boyfriend and I choose to sit in the dark and attempt to control my breathing repeating the same thing over and over again, “you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.”

And maybe you’re thinking, “Yeah, this is a sign of insanity.” But no, it’s a sign of crippling loneliness for so long, I can’t remember what it’s like to feel there in the moment anymore. Because I watch it flee before my eyes and disappear into air and I follow it.

It’s a sign of depression and anxiety, and you learn to make friends with your demons and call them by name until it’s strange not to want to hate yourself and happiness is a fantasy never achieved.

I’d like to forgive myself, to lock the demons away, to truly like myself for who I am and not put myself down for who I can never be, I want to not feel constant worry over things that will be alright, and I want to allow myself to feel happiness.

And I’ve made progress, I can look at myself in the mirror now, I can talk to people without crying, I can go into public without a mental break down, I can allow myself to become attached to someone new, and I’ve learned to cope with my every day fears and worries.

Yet, I’m not where I want to be and I’m struggling to make it to that mountain and see the sun set. To sit there and relax in its warmth with the company of a loved one without a single care inside of my head.

I’m still climbing and being knocked down.

All I know is that the sun hasn’t set yet and I’ve got plenty of ground to cover.