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This morning, the birds outside my window woke me before my alarm. I’ve never enjoyed hearing birds chirp; their tone always seemed so condescending and arrogant. I’ve stopped saying “bless you” every time someone sneezes. I did the math, and if I quit cold turkey, I can add a few months to my life.

I often don’t enjoy being right, so I willingly watch other people be wrong. Someone winked at me today, and I didn’t know what to do, so I gave them a thumbs-up and walked away. I almost slipped in the shower while hitting a high note on Adele’s “Melt My Heart to Stone.”

Maya slept in my bed last night, and I read her a few pages from Alphabetical Diaries from Sheila Heti. She said I read well, and now all I want to do is read for people. I sneezed the other day, and no one blessed me—people can be so unoriginal. I’ve made a vow to never jaywalk in front of kids.

I added my downstairs neighbor on Instagram, and he never added me back. It’s been a month now. I’m obsessed with light. I have five lamps in my dining room, and my curtains are always open. Maya also enjoys light; she has four lamps in her room, while I only have three. She is winning.

On occasion, and always during the day, I like to honk at pedestrians walking on the street and wave hello. They usually return the wave but then quickly try to piece together how they might know me. None of them know me, but for that second, we make eye contact and move past being complete strangers.

I put my alarm in the closet, so I’m forced to stand up to turn it off. I don’t know how to act during funerals—where do I put my hands, and why is everyone so flirty? My dad thought it would be a good time to ask me if I was gay while driving 120 km/h on the highway.

I’m grateful that my sister is dating a good person. I’m also grateful that she still lives at home so my mom isn’t left alone with my dad and brother. Lila said I seem a lot calmer and at peace since I started taking Vyvanse. Hearing that made me both happy and sad. I haven’t cried in almost a year, and I blame it on my SSRI medication.

Maya and I held hands for the first time today, and I felt my entire body tingle as if we were both lying on top of a washing machine during its spin cycle. Why do I question the validity of my happiness every time I start to feel it?

When I was a kid, I hated orange juice with pulp. It was as if little ant legs were racing down my mouth. I have a deaf grandfather in Italy, and every time I visit, we sit outside his house—two wooden chairs and a wooden table—and play Italian card games until one of us gets fed up. Seeing a deaf person get fed up is quite amusing; a lot of huffing and puffing on his end.

My dad and I used to fight a lot when I was a teenager. I made him cry once, and it made me want to rip my eyes out. I never felt like more of an asshole. We got closer in my early 20s, and now we greet each other with a kiss on the cheek and a hug.

I once farted on someone while doing jiu-jitsu. My opponent had me in a weird position, and there was a ton of pressure on my stomach.
I farted on him and blamed the mats we were fighting on. I don’t think he believed me.

I haven’t seen my best friend in over a year, and he lives 20 minutes away from my house. We FaceTime almost every day and talk about nothing and everything at the same time. We got into a huge fight when we lived together and went from being angry at each other to trying to hide our tears. Seeing your best friend riddled with anxiety and stuck in a position that leaves them no room for growth is gut- wrenching.

I made business cards when I got laid off, and it took me almost a month to design them. I also created a website, and that took me close to three months, and I’m still not happy with the way either of them look.

I enjoy looking at myself in the mirror, so I made sure my room has no mirrors. I don’t want to be vain. I can’t be friends with people who support fast fashion and have been arguing with my sister to stop shopping at Shein. You really can’t beat those prices.

I didn’t like my name growing up, so I told people to call me Joseph. This led to confusion when I told people to start calling me Giuseppe in my 20s. My close friends still call me Joseph, Jose, or Joe, which makes me feel like I have two identities. Giuseppe is more patient and charming.

It took me two years to get good at winking, and I still don’t know when the appropriate time to wink at someone is. I have small staring contests with people I lock eyes with on the metro and usually lose due to my dry eyes. I have 20/20 vision and feel the need to let people with glasses know this.

I tried stand-up comedy twice and felt like the audience wasn’t ready for my material. I must be too comedically advanced. I don’t write as much as I would like to. I’m scared about what might come out if I sit down and completely let go. While writing this, I’ve held back a number of times. I rarely enjoy the things I create, but that doesn’t stop me from sharing them on social media and creating a website with all my work.

I enjoy seeing parents let their kids be who they want to be—letting them explore and be whimsical. I enjoy seeing parents care for their children and take pride in being a parent. I don’t want my kid to be an asshole, but I don’t know how much control I have over that. Is being an asshole bad genetics?

I keep my back against the wall when I’m waiting for the train because you really can’t trust anybody. I sometimes wonder how often I do that outside of the metro station.