I did it. I reached the door. Now, I regret everything.
It’s hard to determine a picture from a single puzzle piece.
Sartre writes that hell is other people. Obviously, he had never been here.
I’ve been living the same day for days now. Maybe weeks. I don’t know.
Something big’s going to happen today. Wait.
I have a routine every morning. Had.
I can’t drink from the water cooler anymore. There’s something in it.
I’m not a complainer, but I’m the only employee who shows up for work.
Bill, my desk plant, keeps growing. He won’t stop growing. Dear God, make him stop growing.