I live for the single moment after waking up where I don’t remember the pain. That one moment – not even a second – where I know I’m awake and alive, before it all comes rushing back.
I long for the mornings that the first thought won’t be what happened, or the heartache it has caused. I long for the despair to be the second thought; not the first.
Time heals all wounds.
That’s the worst part.