The Wall

I had one of those “what is even the point” days. Not in a performative dramatic way. In the dead flat, low-voltage way where the endless chores and repetitions stop even pretending to be meaningful and just look like labor stretched to the horizon. That feeling scares people, I think, because it sounds like giving up. But most of the time it isn’t. Most of the time it’s just grief stripping all the cheap narrative coating off daily life and leaving the raw mechanics exposed. You still do the tasks. You still show up. You still protect the kids. You still continue. It just doesn’t feel noble while you’re doing it.