9.09.25: No More Space

Sometimes I think I’ve run out of space. Like my brain is an old hard drive and all my tabs, birthdays, unfinished thoughts, and passwords are taking up too much memory. I forget words mid-sentence. Walk into rooms and forget why. I store feelings in random places like a squirrel with anxiety. Then I find them months later when I smell a certain candle or see a photo from 2016. It’s not gone. Just badly organized. My cloud storage needs folders. Or therapy. Probably both. One day I’ll upgrade. Until then, I’m running low on space and pretending I’m fine.