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I'm happy. Like, not jumping up and down, but a strange, contented happy. That said, I'm tired. My soul is tired, which sounds so over dramatic, but I don't know how else to phrase it. Something inside of me feels old, old and exhausted. It doesn't detract from how I'm feeling, but at the end of each day I feel it, like an echo I'm hearing from somewhere far away. Maybe it's my OCD or PTSD acting up, maybe it's some part of me I've tried to ignore. All that said, I am happy though. And you have to celebrate those little victories, right?
