the finer line

You have something to say but don’t know how to say it. Words have become whitewashed. Your grocery list carries no meaning anymore. 

existential crisis < existential confusion

It’s all you can do to avoid looking at the news app on your phone in the morning. Your doom fetish is eating away at your guilt reserves. 

The empty sadness you feel when you realize your partner has their earbuds in and that’s why they didn’t respond when you said I love you. Falling asleep with that feeling is the essence of antidepressant medication, you whisper to yourself.  

You’ve forgotten how to take in the post-rainstorm night air before bed. Those micro-finite moments are lost in time. Deforestation of the mind.

You’re still uttering the mantra you created for yourself in 2005 – “Today you’ll win back everything you’ve lost since Y2K.”