This is how I’m ending 2019: anxious, sleepless, irrational, a ghost of the girl who entered the decade. A lot of what happened this year was my doing, yet somehow none of it was my fault.
I knew I’d want to check in and reflect on this day, every year, and pay attention to how quickly time flew, how unpredictable change arrived, and how fleeting all of it was.
The first time I [thought I] dissociated, my senses were awake but everything in my periphery had turned into thick, glossy plastic. I saw the trees by the walkway as two-dimensional and believed that if I went over and pushed, the wall would topple over. I went on (another) period of personal turmoil — a