You guys, I agreed to take the late-late shift tonight, meaning I start working on the thing I have to do when it comes in between 1-1:30am. I’ve been here since 5pm with no actual work to do, but that’s normal. What’s n o t normal is that I didn’t realize I was out of juul pods. Even crazier, I forgot my ID card today (of all days!) which means if I leave the office to go to the bodega I won’t be able to get back in!

There’s no one else here.

Supplies:

• endless supply of clean water
• coffee but not the drinking kind, the caffeine-is-a-drug kind
• internet
• Doritos
• 1 cigarette + lighter
• Seasonal Associate and my Japanese textbook
• M & Ms
• phone (social media)
• chapstick
• driver’s license, ID cards, credit card, debit card, metro card, $23 cash
• juul + juul charger + 2 almost empty pods
• phone charger
• toothbrush + toothpaste
• unpopped popcorn and a summer roll
• pens + legal pad (+ unlimited office supplies including paper, staples, binder clips, tape, pushpins, etc.)

So it looks like I’m smoking my last cigarette in the C**** N*** bathroom kinda soon. Gotta pace myself. I found an extra juul pod in the bottom of my bag so I’m not despairing yet.

OK, I’m being really dramatic, but I am imprisoned in this office. Sure I could leave, just walk out, but I’d almost definitely be fired.

To my left, out the window, the Empire State building is lit up in the following colors: red, pink, orange, and green, in honor of, I shit you not, some fucking pharmaceutical company. It’s #RareDiseaseDay. If I sit still long enough all the lights will go off.

I’m listening to Samantha, that off-brand Toro Y Moi album. This song has a clip from The Notebook in it, Ryan Gosling saying, “I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings. They have a two second rebound rate and you’re back doing the next pain in the ass thing.” I’m playing it full volume on my very decent computer speakers because again, I’m alone.

I’ve managed to pass four hours. I texted a few people. I remembered a song I used to like but couldn’t recall the title or the artist, so I killed forty minutes searching. I bullied someone on Facebook. I sent an embarrassing DM to a poet I like, an informal solicitation, but I fucked up the name of his book (even though I genuinely loved it). I posted on Instagram. I tried to read more of Seasonal Associate but it was just too on the nose. There are a number of other books here that I could consume but it’s hard for me to read to pass time, I have to feel like it’s something I’m doing of my own accord or I can’t enjoy it.