“What are you doing?” my aunt asked me.
I wanted to respond a number of things, but the first thing that came to mind was, “having an ongoing existential crisis.”
Instead, I brewed a pot of coffee and decided once more to hide from the world and spiral.
I make myself impossible to find sometimes.
It’s not that I’m not productive. Today I embarked upon three loads of laundry, cleaning the apartment, and a long walk disguised as an errand for myself to buy another vape I didn’t need.
I’m sure I don’t need the coffee, but I want the coffee.
I wish virtual meetings counted as in-person ones.
I spent good money on chicken tenders and lemonade. I have to get better about keeping my blood sugar up.
The truth is, I don’t know what to say anymore when people ask me what I’m up to or how I’m feeling. This year, actually, the last three and a half years, feels like one, long, endless litmus test and I’m at the end of my proverbial rope.
Thank God I took up smoking again.
I realize it isn’t the best thing for me, but I have so few vices anymore, and with micro plastics killing us all, what’s some nicotine?
What am I doing? Trying to braid the frayed ropes of my life together.
Nightingale 
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