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Scratch what I said to you before.
My actual dream is that one day, somewhere down the line,
I will be able to look back at the glut of miserable diary
entries I have penned over the past three years (and
counting); dive right in, re-read all of the painful
details and then recognize how dark these days were. And
then, hopefully, contrast that paralyzing past with the
luminescent present (and devise some new entries that
reflect the tone of the day).
I remember when watching Shameless: The Art of Disability,
one of the featured participants in that film was riddled
with dispair and depression for four straight years before
she finally discovered a way to pull herself out of it.
So, simply put, my dream is to triumph over my current