I Take Bites of the Months but They’re the Ones Eating Away At Me

I haven’t seen the sun in five days. I stare out my desk window at the apartments across the street. I wonder who lives in those rooms. The lace curtains in the middle window always stay open, always. Maybe I should say hi. My laptop sings with an email notification, reminding me that I’m still on the clock. I fix my attention back on the presentation I’ve been staring at for the whole afternoon. The cursor blinks back at me. You’re almost there.

I think about what I should cook for lunch tomorrow. The chicken in the freezer? I will have to take it out tonight to thaw. Maybe I will make a sandwich. What if I don’t feel like cooking? There is that sushi place right on the corner of my street. No, I have to cook if I’m eating out for dinner tomorrow. How long will it take for me to cook? I have that meeting in the afternoon. Oh, shoot. I forgot to submit that request today. I’ll have to write that down as a reminder for tomorrow.

The clock strikes 5 PM, and I have been sitting at my desk for the past thirty minutes re-reading the same page of my book over and over again. I’m distracted by this song playing. I love this song – turn it up! Wait, I can’t focus when it’s playing. Next.

I need to write something. But what? Inspiration is a dead man walking. My motivation to put pen to paper, fingers on my keyboard, is as active as my love life: non-existent. Creativity leaks from my ears and my mind is barren of ideas. Everyday life has been mundane. Quiet permeates every fiber of my being. I love the silence, but it also wrings my neck. Boredom kneels before me, tugging at the bottom of my shirt constantly. February is always nearly melancholy.

My mind wanders. I should get back to this book. Where was I again? I wonder what my friends are listening to. Oh, that’s a good song. I wonder how my ex is doing. Maybe I should text him. No. I want a snack, but it’s too close to dinner time. It’s too bad that cute guy on Hinge has the personality of a brick wall. I wish my friends lived closer. They’re only a forty-minute train ride away, I could visit them right now. But then I wouldn’t be able to make my own dinner. And I can’t buy dinner tonight if I’m buying dinner tomorrow night. I wish I had more friends closer to me. I wish I could make new friends around me. I need to start reading again.

For dinner, I pick my protein and a random selection of vegetables. Bell pepper, cucumber, bok choy, onions. I chop, season, and sauté everything to make my version of a dinner bowl. It’s the best that I can do today. It’s the best that I can do on most days, but to me, it’s a gourmet meal. I sit down to eat with my comfort show playing in the background. I love this show. I hate this character. I wish these people existed in real life. I dream too much, don’t write enough, and I try to find meaning in everything. I tell myself to shut up and to enjoy the food.

I always tell myself I’ll read before bed, but I still end up scrolling on my phone for an hour. Is my alarm on? Yes, 6:10 AM wake-up call. Maybe I should wear my new sneakers on my run in the morning. There hasn’t been rain or snow recently, so the clean white should hold up. I check the time. 9:30 PM. It’s too early. Still, I plug my phone in and shut off the lights. I think about how I should’ve done more today. I need to do more. I’ve never done enough. As I lie in the dark, I think about what I need to accomplish tomorrow. Go for my run, finish this project, make weekend plans, write more, read more, do more. Yes, I can do all that. I lie on my side and close my eyes, satisfied.

But tomorrow, I will do the same thing, again.

And again.

And again.