Every time I think of you, it’s only to remind myself that I haven’t thought of you in a long time.

If you can call the miserable exercise of waking up exhausted, working, fitting in one large meal, working, and falling asleep exhausted “alive”, then I suppose, yes, I am still alive.

Each day feels like a series of line-ups. Lining up to get on the bus, then transfer to the subway. Lining up to buy a coffee. Lining up to get on the elevator. Lining up to get into a restaurant, to get a beer. Lining up to buy tickets, to save a seat, to watch a movie.

I keep looking at the person in front of me. How did they get there before me? Why do I have to wait longer than they do? I get annoyed, worried about all the useful things I could be doing as I waste my time lining up. I curse that everyone seems to drink what I drink, watch what I watch, want what I want. But then the person behind me is most likely thinking the same thing about me.