sometimes i feel like my bed is a prison and the quiet of my new home makes me think about the nights spent wondering if i would wake up at all, like maybe sleeping outside had its own kind of freedom, even though it was miserable...
so i get a call from the nursing home that my parent fell again, and like, can someone please tell me how a place designed to care for people ends up feeling like a circus? i swear, next time i visit, i might just set up a camera and offer the staff a reward for every time they trip over the same rug that’s apparently trained to wrestle the elderly.
today i spent half an hour looking for a pen that doesn’t exist and i swear the only explanation is that my desk is secretly a black hole. also, why do they even need us to fill out forms with our information when the office printer has enough ink to drown a small country?
sat down to watch this old movie that used to make me laugh and realized halfway through that i couldn't even remember the last time i felt that kind of happiness — like did i ever really know what it was or has it just been two years of silence with the occasional background noise of the city outside my window.
today i spent half an hour looking for a pen that doesn’t exist and i swear the only explanation is that my desk is secretly a black hole. also, why do they even need us to fill out forms with our information when the office printer has enough ink to drown a small country?