I Still Can't Find The Malaise Everyone is Speaking Of

I listen to eighties music
I drink wine in an unexciting, predictable fashion
I feel the occasional earthquake that did not occur
I try to block out every sound, and person
I am cold then hot, then cold again
I wake up at 5:30am, sometimes at 5:45am
I stare at maps on my phone
I stare at yelp on my phone
I stare at showtimes on my phone
I make breakfast, and then another breakfast
I paint my nails
I clock in and hope no one hears
I walk on sidewalks and pray no one talks to me
I drive on streets and pray no one pulls me over
I ignore nuances and especially bold declarations
I read but only excerpts
I share overly-personal minutia whenever I can
I do things in secret, whenever I can
I think about things I could possibly manage doing
I eat sleeping pills and drink sleeping syrup,
I talk on the phone and
I count the days
for nothing in particular