“At this point, I’d welcome any adventure to break me out of the monotony of my so-called life.” I’m not even Bill Murray in that 90s movie Groundhog Day; I’m in an oblivious, non-supporting role stuck in a loop. My soon-to-be psychologist sister believes it’s one of my cycles and has given me solid advice, but nothing has worked. I’m broken and boring. “You should be careful what you wish for,” she warns. “Words carry power. You of all people know that.” “I’m not into the superstitious stuff,” I remind her, or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself.
