On paper, it seems,
like little more than a non-event.

Sure, I mean, there have been a fair share of extenuating circumstances in the interim. Novel experiences. In-office romances. A plethora of deserved and undeserved advances. Premature deaths.

Hell, maybe I've got it backwards. On paper, it seems much more exciting than it's been.

Truth is, when it's happening in the moment, it just feels like drowning. It's hard to distinguish between which wave is which when each one is just contributing to a collective denial of your next breath.

But I'm breathing now.

It's almost overwhelming.
My lungs are telling me to keep it this way.

But my mind is telling me different. It's saying,
"This is too much. Shut it down."