Dear Everyone: I’m Still Tired

Can we have a holiday from all the horror?

We play a game. You sit on the other side of a screen and in that baritone voice I’ve grown to hate, you ask me about my wants. If there’s one thing you could have, what would it be? And I cycle through all the regrets — the friendships excised and the cruel words exchanged, a mother’s bones in a cold grave somewhere out in Long Island, all…