will we ever be there yet?

bitterness awaits in strained abeyance. the consequences of the cymbalta story continue, life moves forward. periods of time have passed during which i’ve not been aware of an intrusion of symptoms.

when a stumble occurs, whether at a physical, psyche and / or emotional level, i’m reminded. it is more than bothersome. jagged-edged concerns about how much i’ve lost and how long it will remain that way.

the end might be in sight. it’s not fair. it’s not right either.


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