You pull the coffee mug to your lips.
Take a sip.
You are not quite sure why, but it tastes good this morning. A more satisfying kind of good, better than good.
Better in the sense that, while you always enjoy the coffee and the wakefulness it grants you on tired mornings, you're actually enjoying the flavour.
As it rolls across your tongue, there is a pleasant aftertaste of what you believe to be hazelnut. You note that the aroma is the comforting scent of "home", whatever that might mean to you.
You've been holding on to a lot lately, haven't you? You're tired. That's okay, You're allowed to feel worn out.
It's dark in here, and you decide to pull open all the blinds.
The very early, too early, morning light pierces through the greyness within the room, and for a moment you think you see every dreadful feeling shrink back and slink away from you.
What has been hurting you lately? Don't avoid it. Where does it hurt? Give yourself time to feel what you're feeling, there's no shame in admitting anything to yourself.
You stare off into the corners of your room and glance at all the walls that have watched you struggle and gasp for air on arduous nights.
You realize for the first time that the walls are not grey. In fact, the walls are painted your favorite colour.
You're overwhelmed by this feeling of nostalgia that forces you to gasp louder than you intended to.
I know you're scared, and I know that you feel threatened, backed into a corner. You've gotten through bad things before, haven't you? Of course, you have.
Some air would be nice, you think to yourself. You open your window, and the sweetest breeze pours in and bathes you in petrichor.
That smell of grass and freshly fallen rain causes something to rise up in your chest, to which you let out a tension relieving sigh.
You close your hands around your coffee mug and take another sip. Delectable.