I sit on the bathroom floor. The shower liner needs to be replaced because it’s old and falling apart. I bought a new one at Big Lots but it seems like such a huge task to switch it. I stare at the scale. I should weigh myself. I’m hungry. Surely I’ve lost a few more pounds.

I clean the kitchen counters. Empty the dishwasher. Stare out the window. I would love to take a walk on the trail but I worry who I’ll run into. I don’t feel like dealing with human interaction.

My room is messy. I tell myself that not everyone is neat freak and it’s okay to have a messy room. I mean, who sees it but me? It doesn’t matter. But it does. That shower liner matters. The kitchen counters matter. Walking matters. Everything matters. I’m tired.

I was big into fruit infused water. I prepared it daily. It’s a chore now. It sits on my computer desk, some water and lemon still in it. The lemon is probably eating through the Walmart plastic. I don’t care. I can’t make myself care.

Do I want to care?

I’m so “on” at work that I turn myself off when I leave. I’ve become an amazing actor. Where’s my Academy Award? Where’s my fucking award?

I’m tired.