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.
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.
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?