There are days when I still feel like an imposter, like I’m making all of this up. It’s 8pm and I’m so exhausted, I feel like I’ve been poured on the ground. My heart rate is at 98 beats per minute; I’m resting. 15 minutes ago, I got up to get water; I almost fainted, my heartbeat leapt into my throat, into my head, I reached for the kitchen counter to hold onto. The sun is setting, it’s shining right into my kitchen, it’s beautiful, I sit with eyes almost shut because it’s too bright, I shouldn’t be here, I should lie in the dark, but I miss the light. I worked three hours today, what used to be nothing, not even worth mentioning; at this point, three hours of work means I’ll very likely be very ill from tomorrow through the weekend. (It’s Tuesday.) I can’t go on like this. This afternoon, 13.67 kilograms of frozen meals arrived; I shouldn’t have met the delivery man downstairs, but I feel bad about asking him to walk up 67 stairs, so I do it instead; another thing that needs to stop.