What do you do when you’re hit by existential ennui?
I can’t sleep it off.
I can’t eat it away.
I can’t watch a movie or read a book or do anything that requires the most remote amount of concentration.
My mom asked if I wanted to take a walk and I couldn’t find the words to say I’m feeling too blue to move.
Bad days come and go: I’m told that’s normal. Still, I can’t wait for them to be outweighed by good ones.