I keep going on nervous energy. Art. Work. Mum. Slip in some sleep somewhere. And I think I'm doing it all okay until it becomes blatantly obvious that I'm not. That all the things I'm sure of are uncertain. That the pride I feel bubbling up inside me sometimes is completely undeserved, and I really am that person I despised at the beginning of this year. That I really am not good enough. Because if I was, yesterday wouldn't have happened.
