I cleaned lipstick off a coffee cup and thought, this is my life now

Dear Delyara, It was my own lipstick, from the cup I had abandoned three hours earlier. That’s what made me stop. I had made the coffee, forgotten to drink it properly, reheated it once, answered two calls, found one missing trainer, checked the school app, replied to an email from work, and by the time I came back to the mug, it had become another small thing to clear instead of something that had ever really reached me as comfort. I rinsed the cup and suddenly felt strangely sad. Not because of coffee. Because so much of my life happens in these interrupted fragments where even my own small pleasures become chores before they become mine.