I looked at the washing basket and felt defeated

Dear Delyara, I know it sounds ridiculous, but tonight the washing basket made me feel defeated. Not because laundry is tragic. Because it was one more visible sign that life keeps accumulating whether or not I have the emotional energy to keep absorbing it. There’s something so exhausting about how ordinary responsibilities wait patiently while your inner life gets messy. The basket was just there, full and silent and reasonable. And I hated it for a minute. Then I laughed a little at myself, which helped. Then I still didn’t do it. Some nights survival is simply not adding one more thing to the self-judgment list.