Shoutout to my pharmacy for running out of the one thing keeping me from becoming a sentient couch stain. No meds = no energy. No energy = brain soup. No plan = anxiety party, and guess who RSVP’d first? That’s right, Fear. She brought snacks.
Thinking is a luxury now. I go to do one thing, forget why, stand in place like an unplugged Roomba, and somehow end up eating cereal at 3pm wondering if this is my villain origin story or just another Wednesday.
Physically? I’m cooked. Emotionally? I'm scared—not in the dramatic horror movie way. More like, “what if this doesn’t get better” scared. The kind of fear you carry in your spine while smiling at strangers.
Still here though. Still drawing. Still sarcastic. Still wearing this invisible crown like it means something.
