What do you want? Honestly? A shrug that says you don’t mean a thing. So you don’t get the honest answer. I want to be a _________. Get a degree from _________. Have three kids and a picket fence. And I do vaguely want those things. Or at the least, I want to want them. But the real answer hidden under my well-meaning, don’t-hurt-where-you-don’t-have-to, tongue is—I want to give up. Let go. What have you. And I want you to give me permission. My heart’s just not in it. My mind has fallen most of the way down the rabbit hole and I’m alone here. Alone in crowded rooms. In empty apartments. I am not myself. Or the person that I am is not compatible with the world it inhabits. Or maybe just my comprehension is lacking.