Okay. in The Napkin.

I’m okay.

And just okay is a distinct improvement, I won’t deny it. 2020 and 2021 were just agony for me. It doesn’t seem too long ago when I couldn’t count on consecutive days being just okay. Constantly wishing for a break, wishing for the torture of living to be over.

I wish I were working towards something. That over-the-horizon something helps everyone. But. One day at a time. I see myself simply accruing “boring” time simply being okay.

As I’ve said, it’s like the movie is over, the theater has emptied its seats, and I’m still here, watching static. Everyone has gone home to continue their lives, and I’m just… here. Existing.

Millions of people, living out their lives.

And I’m just… kind of here.

For no real reason.

I joke my life is really boring and mundane, until it isn’t. I tell myself to enjoy this calm. To be unattached to anyone or anything. I envy the breeders, but being beholden to kids or even a partner is still…

Yeah, my limited free time is, well, free to do whatever.

Yeah, I know the depression is there, if it needs to be said. I’m so used to the self down-talk of “oh, I’m worthless, damaged goods and nobody will ever love me” that I don’t even notice me tuning it out. A routine of “yup, that’s a garbage thought” and continuing without flinching.

Don’t really have a point. Just know I hate when I have gaps in my writing and then suddenly A THING HAPPENS. And I kick myself for not writing down what seems so obvious. And then I wonder “wait, was I feeling such-and-such?”

This is easily the longest span I’ve gone in my life without a romantic interest. Or partner. I have no doubt it’s taking its toll on me, but at the same time.... I feel importance in establishing a baseline of “what I’m like” during this interim. What does okay look like? Okay looks like this. This is something I can revert to if need be.

And yes, I’ll say it out loud: I know I’ll be happier when I get cuddles on the regular. We all function like that.