Since we have been isolating, I've been writing my journal frequently. Journals are somewhat incompatible with 2020, in that you don't share. There's no immediate audience. My audience is the romantic notion that someone will find all this after I'm dead, and read it, and just remember I was alive for a moment before tossing those pages in the bin and continuing to search for anything of value I might have owned.

The best thing about writing for people who will read after you're dead is that you can say whatever you want. You can write the most emo nonsense imaginable and people will go "wow so profound" because you're dead. And even if they don't; who cares? You're dead now. And they have to still be alive. Idiots.

My point is: write a journal. Get yourself a nice pen and some nice paper and write what you did today. It won't always be a scintillating tale, but I can confidently assert that you won't regret the time you spend writing it.

(unless a person you write about reads it dear god don't let that happen)