the light through the blinds makes stripes on the wall, pixel's chasing them like they're real prey, it's the most alive I've seen her all winter, or maybe it's me, maybe I'm seeing things differently now, like the static's clearing just a little bit, I keep expecting it to come back but it hasn't yet, and I can hear birds, not just the muffled echo of birds but real actual birds singing their stupid songs right outside the window. maybe I can try ordering a coffee without using the app this time I always chicken out last minute and I don't know why it's just words, just a transaction, but they feel like more than that, like I'm exposing myself somehow. or maybe that's the point, maybe that's the whole fucking point of it all, to expose myself, to let someone see the mess, the real actual mess not the curated version I show online, not the UX designer version, not the 'coping' version but the actual real me and maybe then, maybe then the birds will sing for me too.