Mood: Slightly unhinged
Location: Scattered across the floor of my own expectations
Mental State: Loading… 99% complete (estimated time: infinity)

The Incident

So, today was a thing. I tried to cancel my gym membership and the manager started crying. Now I’m paying $60 a month to avoid making eye contact with a man named Gary.

I stood there for a long time, just taking it in. The realization that I am an adult who is allegedly in charge of things is the most recurring nightmare I have.

The Spiral

The theme of the week is The Empty Inbox.

The ‘hustle culture’ is a pyramid scheme where the only prize is a heart attack at thirty-five. I’m opting out. I’m doing the ‘slow-motion collapse’ instead.

They say ‘dress for the job you want’. I’m currently wearing a oversized hoodie and no socks. I want to be a professional blanket-tester at a high-security facility.

The Aftermath

I’ve decided to reorganize my bookshelf by the level of existential dread each book causes. The ‘Tax Law’ section is currently at the top of the pyramid.

Everything feels like it’s made of cardboard and hope, and it’s raining. But hey, at least I found a five-dollar bill in my coat pocket. It’s enough for half an oat milk latte.

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Mood update: I’ve decided to be at peace with my own destruction. For the next hour, at least.