Why can’t I stop highlighting everything?
Well, I think I’ve had it. Flown the coup. Lost the peanut butter in my jelly sandwich. Misplaced the screw that keeps my bolts in place. Broke the light on my dimmer switch.
I surrender.
Okay, what now?
I’m throwing in the towel. Running back into the finish line and tagging back out.
Help me. I need help. You said, “All you have to do is ask.”
How are we going to finish this, people?
We’ve all lost it.
We’re nine miles past COVID fatigue.
Three days past I can’t take it anymore.
So, what’s the plan?
You’re coping mechanism or mine?
Okay, here’s what I’m doing. If I tell you, will you tell me? Maybe we can figure this out together.
I’ve started highlighting everything. I’m Da Vinci Coding it. I’m thinking there’s some cipher to decipher, some clue to woo. We can get out of here.
I started highlighting all of my Mediums.
Somebody knows something.
At first, I was a little highlighter shy, but I’ve broken the dam and sometimes, I even leave a comment. It’s pretty powerful.
Maybe one of these stories I highlight will lead me to a person who knows how to get the fuck out of this place.
I didn’t use to swear on-line, but I’m looking for the badasses, not the shrinky dinks.
I gotta warn you though. Highlighting is crack addictive.
I’ve started highlighting my New York Times on-line. I have a prison pen pal and I’ve been highlighting his letters. Maybe he’s got a connection to help me leave the abode and hit the road.
The thing is, I’m done. Not one more second. Not one more hour. Not one more day.
All right.
Your turn. I gave you highlighting. What ya got for me?
