This is, in the simplest way, a piece about an adult falling apart and nearly succeeding in the most horrific way. In truth, I didn’t expect to be here to write this piece. I expected there to be a eulogy for me that I’d never read, an obituary of kind thoughts for those who would survive me. I expected to be “the late” right now. I expected to be in memoriam.
Instead, I’m writing this perspective piece from my apartment, from a desk that no longer resides in my bedroom, from a room with a view of the sea and a chain of islands. I’m writing this because I’m alive. Also, because as of November 18th, 2024, I am no longer employed.
Backlit Pixels 
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