Sometimes, I have good days. They are few and far between and normally don't last for an extended period of time but for a few brief hours, I'm happy. I bounce around, skip, jump, prance, pirouette, etc. etc. As long as humanly possible before my brain decides to stab-murder me all over again.
And in these brief moments of respite, the children can be screaming, the phone can be ringing, a pile of laundry can be glaring at me ominously and the sink can be filled to the brim with dishes and not a bit of it will touch or harm me because my happy is exactly like my sad or my angry. It's black and white. It is perfect.
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