The COVID Diaries: Sad Balloons

I am sad today.

Last year when her daughter was struggling with mental health, BFK explained the irrational behavior to me.

“She has all these thoughts and emotions floating around in her like balloons,” BFK said. “She keeps grasping at one balloon and tying it to brick even if they don’t match. She’s constantly trying to tie the emotions to something concrete.”

That’s me today. I am full of sad balloons and I keep trying to tie them to any damn thing my brain can think of — not sleeping very well, nightmares last night, Maxwell isn’t feeling well in a way that seems like a cold but who knows?, the fact that the #KimballCats are soon to be going back to the Kimballs, a not-entirely-great reaction to a new website I designed, tacos that tasted like a bummer — and I’m still sad.

I am sad today, probably because this whole COVID thing is so fucking hard and trying to be sad about something small and familiar is much easier than being sad about everything that is happening outside my door.

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