I make a gesture, one more, great, I think I’m succeeding. Step by step I manage to move on. It would seem a simple thing - walking. What could be so difficult about this? We learn this from childhood and everything happens naturally, but not for me. A monster sits on my shoulders, it presses on me, forcing my knees to bend, and its black slurry spreads all over my body so that I become a tin soldier, unable to move even an inch. When I lie down, he presses on my chest and no matter what side I lie on, he will always find a way to make himself more comfortable on me. And yet I move and with each movement I manage to throw off a piece of his black, oily robe. I try to continue to concentrate on my small victories. Someday, I will definitely be able to win. This faith alone brings me closer to victory.