More and more, it feels like I'm doing a really bad impersonation of myself.

The weather today is partly angry, leading to resignation and ultimatums.

I told him to buy land, my mum says, they’re not making it anymore.

What we call chaos is just patterns we haven’t recognized. What we call random is just patterns we can't decipher.

This is less teaching than damage control. You may as well paint a house that’s on fire.

For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel peaceful. Not happy. Not sad. Not anxious. Not horny. Just all the higher parts of my brain closing up shop. The cerebral cortex. The cerebellum. That's where my problem is. I'm now simplifying myself. Somewhere balanced in the perfect middle between happiness and sadness. Because sponges never have a bad day.

Everybody's still miserable in the same way they've always been miserable, and more and more of my friends - especially my male friends - find themselves taking anti-anxiety, psychotropic drugs. It seems like everybody I know is wondering if they're really who they are, or once the prescription runs out, will they become someone different?