I have a confession to make. I fear I am repeating myself. I have yet to learn how to be nice. Some times. Otherwise, plain nasty. Or aloof. Distant. Disconnected. (But never unconcerned.) Time was I thought I cared about something.

Saturday night with Jason, Henny and Nisa. I have forgotten how easy it is to slip into a sense of camaraderie with Jason. We discussed how, in your late 20’s, it’s near impossible to lose that little bit of a paunch that develops. Of course, Jason looks lean and Nisa insists I’m thin, but still. That final little itty-bitty that drives you crazy. Henny ate an entire slice of decadent chocolate cake at Starbucks after dinner by herself. I just tore my paper cup into origami-aeroplane-shreds. It never flew.

Sunday breakfast with Youngest Uncle. We haven’t had a chance to catch up since before I left for Munich. This was five, six years ago. I’m almost twenty-eight now. Quite sure it frightens me. Time to look back, to look ahead.

But just living here, right now, is the most difficult thing to do, goddamnit.

All My Little Words: Brute.