There was a moment when my sister and I were washing the dishes, the house was dim, the soap was eating our skins off, we were laughing but it was a sad kind of laughter, and I was thinking about how earlier today was the first time in months that I had spent a chunk of an hour scrolling through Facebook, and seeing all those faces, futures, friends, just made me feel distant, and it’s silly to think about this and, really, it’s inane, the whole thing, this subject of feeling sad while you have food and a roof and clothes to wear, but I felt it, that sadness, that slouching position on a couch while you look up at a dead ceiling light and the room is one shade darker and these thoughts are flickering through your mind, thoughts of the enormity of this world, this universe, the enormity of human life, and just life in general, the beauty and ugliness of everything, the scars on your leg, the annoyance of being tired and sad but not knowing why, and questions flood your head, questions like do people think of you in their spare time, not in an obsessive manner, but just in this small, endearing way, like they think of your voice or your smile or your rough hands and they feel better and they smile, or is that just me, is it just me thinking of people that I love and loving them too deeply and wasting time because I will never be able to tell them how much I love them, how much they mean to me and this world and how beautiful they are and sometimes I want to drown in the love of this world and sometimes I want to sleep with loneliness tucked under my arm just so I can feel something even if it hurts, just so I know that I am alive.