How could I not know what’s troubling me? I do know. I know it’s everything. I know it’s easier to just shut down. To switch an off button. Staring far away at the floorboards, I lift my hoodie’s hood over my head, and I imagine I’m disintegrating after a Thanos snap. I’m fluttering pieces of dust, drifting into the air. No one feels pain after they dust. They’re just gone. Invisible. Not present for the bad days, the awful months, and then they reemerge years later as time has passed without them. Without me.
