“Maybe next year can be the year of Hanna being healthy.”
I was standing in the middle of Dillard’s, wandering aimlessly in search of a anorak jacket and talking to my mom on the phone.
The hardest thing about being sick is the burden you put on the people you love most. It would be fine if I could shoulder everything myself, but that’s impossible. Your sister knows when you’re crying on the phone. Your roommates know when to be worried. Your academic advisor says he’ll walk with you to the counseling center if you need support. I don’t get to lock everything up and be in a bubble of depression and anxiety all by myself.
Absentmindedly fiddling with the tulle of formal dress on display, I tried to rack my brain for the last time I was healthy. I can only think of Alaska, sitting on top of boulders…
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