I wonder if, sometime during the coming days and weeks and months, I'll look back at this brief period of my life, and wish that I'd done or said something different.

Actually, that word different is misleading. Because, in actuality, I've done nothing, and I've said nothing.

I wonder if I'll wish that I had.

People can sense it, though. That something is wrong. That something has happened or that something is happening or that something is about to happen. And they ask me about it.

I answer that I don't know. I don't know if there's really anything wrong. I just know that something feels wrong. Things are strange. Tensions are tangible.

Something is crumbling, I think. And I'm not sure whether to attempt repairs or to run away from the falling debis. I should know what to do. Whether via intellect or instinct, I should know what to do.

And maybe, by doing nothing, I'm answering my own question.

Man, I'm tired.