The stronger I get, the more hits I receive. Blow after blow. I think that this situation starts to be pointless in every sense. I want to go back to my past reality, when the problems where only like a mist hanging around me, not real shapes coming towards me with a speed of light.

The blind spots, caused by looking in the sun to long.

I cannot think about anything that goes throughout my life. This would make me depressed, angry, envying, wanting or even worse suicidal. I don't want that at all. I hope that manias won't get me, that my illness won't come back, that I will see my grandma in a future days, that my Bac will be okay, that my mother will stop acting reckless.

And many more.

In need of blind spots. In need of amnesia. In need of sleep. In need of assurances that "Everything is gonna be okay".