Executive dysfunction gothic
– You have to shower. You cannot shower. You are standing right in front of the shower. You want to shower. You cannot shower.
– The meeting begins. “Did everyone see the email?” There is a chorus of nodding heads. You nod, too. You think you may possibly have checked an email account before, on one single occasion, at some unknown time, probably in a past life.
– You are hungry. You have been hungry for three days now. The hunger has not spontaneously resolved itself. How inconvenient, you think. How rude.
– You depend on your planner/calendar. You loathe your planner/calendar. You can’t function without it. You live in constant fear of it. It’s an unhealthy relationship. You think you both should start seeing other people.
– There is a pile on your floor. It is a treasure trove, the Room of Requirement. It has everything. You look for something specific. It has nothing. There was never any pile.
– There’s been a change of plans, they say. You don’t understand. They repeat: “there’s been a change of plans.” You don’t understand. The mere suggestion causes a buzzing in your head that drowns out everything else. You don’t understand.
– You’re in class and you don’t understand the lecture. You look back at your past notes. You look at a calendar. You have not been to class in two weeks. You have no memory of this supposed time. Where did it go? Why did it leave?
– “Organizational tips for success: Keep a planner! Write it down! Stick to a schedule! Make a list!” You are torn between deranged laughter and ugly crying. You choose both.
– You type a few words, your phone rings, you answer. You frown and type a few words. A text, you open it and respond. You forget what you were doing. You type a few words. A text, you ignore it. You type a thousand words. A text, you open it. “Why haven’t you responded?” It’s been a week.
– You need your medication, you call to renew your prescription. You’re out of refills and the doctor needs to see you before you renew. You don’t get your medication again for six months.
– You want to RSVP to your cousin’s wedding but there’s no email address or phone number, just a card in an envelope that you have to put in the mailbox. You put it somewhere that you won’t forget it. The wedding was yesterday.
– “Look, it’s just one more stop before we head home, why are you making such a big deal of it?”
– “Hey, I invited our friends over to hang out for the day and maybe get lunch. You said you were free today, right?” You’re always free but you never have time. It takes an hour to decide what lunch will be.
– You write the shopping list. You stand in front of your door holding your keys while you tape the list to your phone. You step outside and realize you don’t know where your keys are. You step inside and they’re in your hand. You go to the store and pull out your phone. There never was a list.
– You’re meeting someone for what you’re sure is the tenth time. They say their name and all you hear is a high-pitched ringing. You carefully avoid interacting with them for the rest of the evening so you don’t run the risk of having to introduce them to anyone.
– “C’mon, you were in ceramics with me, we made clay boxes together. I sat next to you for two years!” You’ve never seen this person before in your life.
– You have to be somewhere at 6AM. You can’t be late. You don’t sleep the night before to be sure you can make it. When you’re late to work the next week your boss says “you can be on time when you want to be, you’re choosing to show me that you don’t care.” You don’t sleep to make it in to work on time tomorrow. You never sleep. You never sleep.
– You have to pee but if you don’t finish typing this sentence you’ll forget what you were saying. By the time you finish typing your body doesn’t notice that you still have to pee.
– “Uh, did you know you’re bleeding?”
Published
The Paradox Machine 