Here’s a truth about me: I’m often uncomfortable being uncared for. I’m much more comfortable doing that the caring.

But lately especially I’ve realized how much I need it. And that makes me ponder past disappointments, which makes me squirrelly. But the truth is, I don’t always know how to ask for things.

Last year, I told someone I no longer talk to: people give what they give, and you see what happens. But I don’t think that’s true, anymore. I think that was a crap parameter, a bad yardstick for a shallow sentiment.

I’m bad at asking, but I’m trying to be better at it. And there are things I’ll always be working on, I suspect. That’s just one of them.

But the important takeaway is to not measure the present by the wrong yardstick. That’s sometimes why I go the extra mile, even when it seems silly. Why wouldn’t I, if I can?

And now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a gin cocktail with rosemary simple syrup that has my name on it.

(There’s a goddamn typo in the first tweet, and I’m not redoing the thread. Cared for, not uncared for. Brb, dramatically flouncing away in shame.)