Walking through Penn Station seeing the beauty in peoples face, and wondering how fucked up it is that I don’t feel connected.
Wondering about every time I missed coffee, left someone hanging, or missed expectations.
Seeing joy in couples as they walk during a warm New York December day (I am scared about this)
Thinking I am not smart enough, talented enough, or engaged enough to know the people on my phone, email list, or LinkedIn.
Tiring, nights of tossing and turning scared of the next disappointment, surrounded by a room filled with clothes I haven’t put away.
Movie, story, narrative, structure deep dives.
Inadequate, scared, frustrated and unfocused.
Depression is complicated.