December 22, 2004
The self-analysis is just sort of a habit now after these few months during which I was forced to talk about myself, forced to feign insight into my disease and fake the appropriate progress. I've seen the cold, tiled floors of the ward for too long. I am not better in terms of my depression being less; I have merely gained experience and appreciation of freedom. I was antsy there. I was held in captivity, force-fed so many coping mechanisms and vomit-inducing positive affirmations that I was able to put my illness on the backburner at least for a time.