Every moment that goes by, I get waves of…emancipation.

I can breathe a tiny bit better.

Is it premature? Perhaps.
But who is to say how much time we have to stomp in the snow, eat good food, send silly memes to our friends and hug our loved ones?

If this sense of release still gets me swinging by my neck via a tree, so be it.

At least I lived. Or held my chin up as high as my head could manage.

Beaten, bruised, muddied, but I am getting back up again.