Chronic Ama

Sometimes I wish I was an introvert. Maybe the pain of being alone a lot would turn to pleasure. I wouldn't need to schedule coffee dates because I wouldn't have this hole in my soul that can only be filled with the presence of others. I could easily pass off the last few years of having people as a phase. I'm an introvert now.  Grocery shopping panic attacks make sense because I'm an introvert now. I can pass that blame on to the pandemic maybe. I'll start getting comfortable with the fact that I am truly disabled now. I can't work or keep up with my own little business demands. It's ok, I was running out of energy lugging the same shit all over town. Also, I'm an introvert now. I'd rather not have to talk to people about what I make and why I make it. And be disappointed when they keep walking by, too turned off to even say hello. Introverts appreciate it that. We don't mind when people keep walking by. It's less stress to deal with in the

The voice in my head keeps yelling at me to write. He's like this annoying super fan at a kids basketball game, standing on the bleachers, yelling shit at an awfully high decibel. Yeah, I've given the voice in my head a gender for some very odd reason. Maybe it is just natural to think that way being as old as I am. Every time I finish a book, he gets up and yells, "why the hell did you put those huge nails on?! You know you can't type with those!" He totally forgot the part about telling me to write. So, I ignore the rude remark about my fabulous claws and sit down with my journal. I write about my day. as mundane as that sounds. It's so routine and lacks that voice that my fingers are so adept at portraying on a keyboard. What will people think reading that when I'm dead and gone? "No wonder she was bat shit crazy. She was bored out of her fucking mind." Life moves at varying paces that change daily and even sometimes by the hour. This past mon