There were two or three months about two years ago when everything felt good. There was a feeling of infinity, of accepting the place where life dropped me, and of possibility, of running and walking at the same time. The idea that anything was possible, and that I could do or be anything, was very liberating. Especially because it enabled me to be okay with who I was, which is something I’ve never been able to do.

I don’t know what aligned to make this possible. Nothing had changed. In fact, I was recovering from one of the worst defeats of my life. Maybe it was the contrast between terrible and mediocre that I was experiencing, and that elation was only relative to itself – but I think it was more than that.

I remember it precisely : it felt like fresh air, like space. It haunts me almost constantly. I want it back. This feels like starving : an angry stomach and an angry brain seething constantly is no way to live.