Everything at Once

The blanket’s bunched, the sheet’s slipped, the pillows are all in the wrong place. I haven’t even taken off my clothes. I’m lying here staring at the ceiling while everything arrives at once—why the new colleague at work has decided he doesn’t like me, how I’m getting through the rest of the month, where the next step leads in the career, in love, in any of it. Nobody’s going to sort this out for me, and knowing that has never once made it easier.

So I put on Zola Jesus, then A$AP Rocky, then Disclosure. Because it’s the only thing I can actually do right now. Besides think.