Being around people who have a tale about themselves, have roles in the world, I realise I don’t have a role, can’t tell you a tale. Without one I am currencyless. Can’t indicate that I would be of value to anyone. “What do you do?” — Many things, mediocrely.
I don’t know whether I’m fed up not having a decent tale, or fed up with this desperate search for one. Or both.
I’m tired and yet restless and anxious.