I wonder if everyone else is carrying this same specific weight—this 2022 brand of exhaustion. It’s not the sharp terror of 2020, but a duller, more persistent thrum. We are "back to normal," but the normal is different now. We’re all pretending the floor isn’t vibrating.
Yesterday was the midterms. The news cycle is a jagged roar of red and blue, a relentless tallying of who we are and who we aren’t. It feels like we are all perpetually waiting for a result that never quite settles the score. But here, in the 8:00 AM hour, the world isn't a map of districts; it’s just the sound of a heater clicking in the corner and the distant hum of a neighbor scraping frost off a windshield. Note 11/9/2022 8:47:34 AM - Online Notepad
If anyone ever finds this note in the cache of a forgotten server: I was here. I was caffeinated. I was a little bit worried, a little bit hopeful, and I was trying my best to find the right words for a feeling that doesn't have a name yet. The cursor blinks. 8:48 AM. Time to start the day. I wonder if everyone else is carrying this
There are things I should be doing. I have three unread emails that require "circling back." I have a grocery list that is mostly just items I forgot to buy last week. But for a second, I just want to acknowledge that I am here. We’re all pretending the floor isn’t vibrating
November 9th. The trees are mostly skeletons now. The year is leaning heavily toward its end, and I am still trying to figure out if I’ve moved forward or if I’ve just been running in place so fast that it feels like progress.