More distant and more solemn/Than a fading star

So at the rate I'm improving, I'll be 'well enough' (operative word being 'enough') to be left by myself overnight sometime in March. Which is not entirely a good thing, mostly because I really don't like the idea of having to be around people incessantly for two months.
Physically recovering, though. I haven't had to use bandaids or anything of the sort for two days now; by next Sunday, the scabs will have healed over and the only traces remaining will be red marks. Sometimes I'm tempted to turn my arm into one big red mark. But that wouldn't go over terribly well.
I think, on Tuesday, I'm going to check myself into the Cornerstone facility. Again. I'm not tremendously keen on the idea, but there you have it. I'm not sure what's going on, or why, but...I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this.
I hate, hate, hate feeling like this. Why won't it just go away?

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