I Ironed a Shirt and Felt Sorry for Myself

Dear Delyara, The shirt was not even difficult. Just one of those plain school shirts with a collar that never sits right unless you do it properly. And while I was ironing, I suddenly felt this deep, embarrassing sadness. Not because of the shirt itself. Because I am tired of how much of my life disappears into keeping everybody else ready. Ready for school. Ready for work. Ready for tomorrow. Ready for the world. I sometimes wonder who is getting me ready. The answer is: still me.