The sink full of dishes nearly broke me

Dear Delyara, I know this sounds ridiculous, but the dishes nearly made me cry tonight. Not because of the dishes themselves. Because they were one more thing asking for care from a version of me that already felt used up. I looked at the sink and felt that horrible disproportionate wave — not about the actual task, but about what it represented. Everything needing something. Everything becoming mine eventually. Everything waiting if I don’t do it. Everything quietly accumulating while I’m busy surviving other things. I washed them. Slowly. Then stood there staring at the clean sink like it had proved something larger than cleanliness. Maybe it had.