I Am Jack’s…

I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep.

Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash

I am Jack’s fading memories of a wildly misspent youth.

I am Jack’s trip to McDonald’s only to find that the McFlurry machine is broken fucking again.

I am Jack’s late and dishonest timesheets.

I am Jack’s progress report from the abyss.

I am Jack’s ongoing series of abject romantic failures.

I am Jack’s acknowledged but untreated and occasionally crippling intimacy issues.

I am Jack’s tendency to immediately panic every single time someone tells him “no worries.”

I am Jack’s hesitance to clearly state that he is not feelin’ it.

I am Jack’s broken bottle that looks like a diamond ring from a distance.

I am Jack’s vices that lead to a broken heart, both physically and metaphorically.

I am Jack’s complete lack of confidence.

I am Jack’s unfulfilled Venmo request.

I am Jack’s neuroses while he waits for the other shoe to inevitably drop.

I am Jack’s lack of patience while waiting for a text message response.

I am Jack’s failure to charm during a talking head digital date.