“So, how are you holding up?”
A bit tired.
I mean, it could be worse.
I have it better than a lot of people right now.
Well, I just got done Googling “can you die from insomnia?” so, you know.
We’re ordering pizza for the fourth night in a row.
I just don’t understand. Any of this.
Wishing I could afford therapy.
I miss nouns.
Can a person’s soul be exhausted?
I had whiskey for dinner.
I feel so helpless.
What even is reality?
I’ve got all these projects I’m working on so, you know, staying busy.
I just want to go somewhere. Do something.
Everything is so surreal. I can’t even go on social media anymore.
I miss people. I miss my family.
Just, I mean, what the $#@%?
I’m fine. Really.
So help me I will murder the next person who suggests the solution to everything is more kindness in the world.
I had wine for breakfast so…pretty good right now.
I can’t concentrate on anything.
I hate humans.
I’m feeling cautiously optimistic for once.
I doomscrolled all night, how are you?
I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine. Wait, what was the question?
I honestly don’t know. I haven’t stopped drinking eggnog with a 40 percent ABV since the day after Thanksgiving.
I can’t stop crying.
As well as can be expected considering it’s just endless darkness and everything is bleak and I’m stuck inside forever with only my family and panic and dread as constant companions in this nightmare dystopia we are living in but hey, I’m just going to keep making this popcorn for my children’s dinner while crying a bit and using every ounce of willpower I have to stuff these feelings way, way down into the cellular soil of the body where tumors start.
You know, I’ve decided I’m going to make the best of this.
When does it get better?
Survival mode. Just endless survival mode.
I’m horrified. But no longer surprised.
I got so angry I threw my phone at the TV.
There just aren’t words anymore.
I’m numb. Completely numb.
It has to get better soon.
Will it ever get better?
I am dead inside.