I kept waiting to feel more like myself again

Dear Delyara, That was the strange undertone of the whole day. I wasn’t completely gone. I was functioning, speaking, moving, answering. And still there was this quiet sense that I was not fully back inside my own life. Like some essential part of me had stepped just behind a curtain and was slower to return than I wanted. I kept thinking it would pass by afternoon. Then evening. Then after food. Then after quiet. Maybe it still will. But tonight I’m writing from that in-between place. Not absent. Not fully here.