Regardless of how long I’ve been stuck on bodily functions, every morning still feels like the first day. The rekindled sense of despair, of hopelessness, of lethargy. The feelings that keep you stuck to bed. Like waking up to bad news. Like waking up to the day stretching out indefinitely. It’s ridiculous, almost blackly funny, that the simple act of blinking can make the vastness of the world feel so small and irrelevant. All meaning and purpose, all possibility and reason, condensed down to the experience of a blink.