i’m having one of those days when humaning feels futile. when waking up, doing working, making the bed, bathing, answering the phone feels like a lie. like humaning is just being a hamster on a wheel.
and thinking and feeling is heavy.
and breathing and being is heavy.
and there’s no answer to “why” that will be satisfying. so i trudge along. this breathing in and breathing out thing seems to run automatically. so i’m waiting for a day like yesterday when the race didn’t feet so ratty.
and pushing.
through.
ain't i woman 