It started with a bad day. I probably didn’t get enough sleep. I probably showed up somewhere late, missed something I meant to do. 

It threw me off, and I had another bad day.

Then it was a bad week; just a rough patch. *Nothing a bit of make-up work over the weekend can’t fix. No problem.*

Then there was the breakup, that was a bad month. I don’t just get over people. I would do anything for the ones I love. My feelings for those close to me are incredibly strong and that doesn’t just go away. 

Then the parties and one night stands, those were really bad for me. *People should be more than this to me, this isn’t who I am. This won’t replace her.*

Those couple of months were really difficult. People started saying hurtful things out of nowhere, I wasn’t used to that. I didn’t see my friends as often. We used to hang out every day, but it’s been around every other day. *Busy time of year!* Everything was all over the place, it was hard to keep up. 

I really fell behind that year, it was rough. *I’ll have to figure out where to go from here, I need a fresh start! For now hanging around in limbo is alright, I’ve got time.*

*What’s so bad about a year of limbo?*

*I guess I wasn’t a dummy for thinking about her every day, I knew she’d come back. This is what I was waiting for.* True love, again at last — for a whole lifetime;

a whole, perfect, year and a half. Horrible, fleeting, malicious love; stomped out like a cigarette at 4am with a side of the influenza type A and a 103° fever. Then the four hour drive home. 7am, *“I fall out of the car, like a hostage from a plane; think of you awhile; start wishing it world rain.”*

Then Covid. Then nerve damage and facial paralysis. That’s winter for you.

*Time to start school again, retake a few classes, transfer after that. Remember the engineering idea? It’ll be easy as one two three.* One point two three. What a grade point average. Wish that 31 ACT still meant anything. *Oh well, a just means I’ll have one more year.*

*Just one more year.*

*I’ll figure things out.*

*Just one more issue.*

*Just one less friend.*

*Just one more obituary.*

*Just one more something.*

*Something, please, anything.*

It’s been four years.

I know how fortunate I am to have the things that I have. I know about all of the genocides going on in the world, the people who can’t get basic necessities, the people who would tell you “meat” if you asked what made them happy. I’ve heard the stories from getting lunch with homeless people — the guy who never realized how good he had it until his aunt died and he had no support network. The guy who had a breakup and kept getting sent in circles trying to find a shelter that would accept men. The guy with a bad leg, who struggled with alcohol and washed windows to get by. They’re all great people.

I know every lesson there is to know. I know all the things I should be fixing and working on. I’m well aware.

Nothing is left. I feel nothing, I want nothing, I am nothing.

We’re all two or three bad decisions away from becoming the ones that we fear and pity.