She sat there with her legs curled beneath her, droplets of tea dancing upon the pages of her novel. Her focus began to drift from the dismal chapter onto the despair of her shaking hands. It was that time of day again, where she embarked on the task of creating happiness.
“Day 30: Today is a wonderful day to be alive, and for that I am grateful,” she repeated to herself as she vacantly glanced out the window at the placating blue skies.
She had done it so often that she no longer had reason to question the gap between her words and her feelings. She just is that mixture of happy and sad, no longer wondering how things could be different.
She just is.