'a body worn from fighting wars'

It's those words and I. Words that need to come together and make sense. For others than me. And I'm not quite sure, I'm in the right frame of mind to be able to do. Or if I'll ever be. But I'm perservering, not leaving my flat other than going to the library. I drink way too much coffee, eat the wrong things and as always, I sleep too little. I go to a dreaded gynocologist appointment and she turns out to be one of those that care about the whole person. When she asks me how things are, I hesistate too long for her to suggest, 'a bit up and down', to which I can nod without having to use any words. I hold myself together, but another question would've meant me pouring my heart out. Because life's a bit much at times and sometimes a stranger's concern is all it takes for tears to gather. 

My body keeps sending me little signals to alert me that all is not well. 

Time and ability to rest is the silverlining. I can almost touch it now.