I’m also completely cognizant that, even with the aforementioned desire, nothing is satiating me. I walk around all day feeling half-empty. I think about things that I want to do, and I’m aware that I want to do them, but am also burdened by the knowledge of the disappointment that would ensue after doing them. I think this is...depression?

There’s a video game that’s coming out soon that I’m really excited about—it’s been 20 years since something like it was released, and I feel this choked, withered longing. The idea that this thing will bring me joy lasts for a few minutes. Then I think, No, this thing couldn’t possibly be what I want it to be. It’s a video game. I will suck at it and not have time to get better. It, and any hardware investment I make into it, will be a waste of money that could have gone to...uh...my inevitable MRI? Months of physical therapy? The engagement ring E expects? The 40% rent increase I just took on?

I’m happy E is happy in this apartment, but I realized today that I dislike it and will not miss it when we leave. Only 23 months to go. Maybe.