I hate when my family asks what I’m doing. I rarely know what I’m doing beyond a vague sense of what near future me wants.

If I’m cooking dinner, I’ll gather everything that’s edible, find whatever herbs/spice that I think might go with what I currently have and hope in the next hour or two something edible and/or tasty appears.

My sister gets angry at me whenever I answer “I don’t know” to a question about what I’m doing. I don’t understand why I need to have a reason for everything I do while simply trying to exist. Exhausting. Stop making your anxiety my problem…