Almost didn't say it, but here it is: maybe this is all just…practice. Like the universe is running simulations of my life, and this version, the one where i don't know a single damn coffee shop without the gps, is just one of the drafts. deleted this twice. that's the scary thing, isn't it? that maybe there's no 'real' me, just a series of almost-mes stumbling through different realities. but if it's all just practice, then what does it matter if I use the GPS or if Mochi hates the linoleum? then maybe it's okay to laugh when i spill coffee on my new shirt, because it's just a costume anyway. practice for what, though? for the version where i finally get it right? or just practice for being okay with never getting it right at all? that's the part they don't tell you in the self-help books, that maybe there isn't a destination, just endless rehearsals.