erin kelly

The not so little black book

My day started like any other I suppose, my alarm singing its usual tune. It’s greeting now seemed to mock me more than enliven me, being I no longer had a job to wake up for. As it’s familiar call brought on self-loathing which was my new morning routine, the well intended yet continuously failed bedtime affirmations and attempts at positive redirection of my life, finally did their job and spoke up. I snapped out of it long enough to remind myself that many had lost their job during this pandemic and I had so many things to still be grateful for. As I began to consciously go over the list of things I was grateful for, which was my self designed recipe to positivity, the front door buzzer rang. The days of expecting random amazon packages had long passed, as well as the prospects from my bumble app were logically put on hold, thus my frugality and decided loneliness left me baffled at who it could possibly be.