Why me?

There’s a question burning in your mind. You want it to stay there, itches to get out. You clench your teeth, but it’s unstoppable.

“Why me?“

No answer. You ask once more but the walls of your room remain silent. Stubborn. They give no answers. 

“Why me?”

You skim through books and titles and tables of contents. Nothing, no answer. 

“Why me?”

There’s a bottle on the bookshelf. You pour a glass, burn the stomach. Light a cigarette. Inhale junk food.

“Why me?” 

Fire up Netflix. Two seasons and 20 episodes later, there’s no answer. 

“Why me?”

Stack purchases on the credit card. Package after package after package.

“Why me?”

Amass money. Watch the number in your bank account grown. Still, no answer. 

“Why me?”

The pandemic goes on forever, buzzing around your head like a swarm of bees. 

“Why me?”

There’s a mirror in your apartment. Look at it. There’s a face there. Recognize it. Wave. It will wave back. It will ask the same question.

“Why me?”

You are not alone in this. There are other people in other apartments looking at other mirrors, asking the same thing. 

“Why the f*** did this have to happen to me?”

Slow down. It’s not a good question. The universe doesn’t revolve around you. Things don’t happen to you. 

They happen.