Standing in the kitchen

Quickly, before bed.

I told one person. Not my mother, not work. One person, and only because she asked me a direct question at the right moment.

Asked eleven questions in her first entry and got eleven answers.

What I keep coming back to is how long it took me to get here. Not the medication — the asking. Years of that.

So. First one done. I had been carrying the box around the house for four days like it was something I had borrowed and needed to give back, and in the end I did it standing up in the kitchen with the radio on.

More questions tomorrow.