Unnecessary notes and poor self-reflection

This book started as a list.
Numbers, minutes, calories, messages.
Things I wanted to remember before they would disappear.
Somewhere between all that counting,
it turned into something else.
There are poems here about cooking too much,
waiting for messages that never come,
Googling symptoms,
counting seconds,
and pretending it’s all fine.
They’re small snapshots of daily life—
things that could have stayed random,
but became something else
just by paying attention.
It’s not a sad book.
It laughs first,
then says something honest,
when no one is watching.
Every poem is a small accident,
and put all together, they almost make sense.