My kittens, I invite you to be bored with me at work on this beautiful sunny day.

Yesterday Dasha and I were once again helping frogs cross the road and counting them. Since these frogs are rare, they need to be tracked and reported to a special organization that handles statistics.

We also cleaned my grandpa’s car, which we’re preparing for sale. I’m in shock—how can someone smoke inside a car? The smell is awful. Then Dasha bought me a delicious tortilla and took me to the forest.

Can you believe I have someone who loves me? A super reliable, calm person with incredible skills in so many areas, strong and active. I honestly envy myself. Dasha is a gift from the heavens, an island of stability and peace that outshines all the chaos I’ve been through. She’s incredibly confident in herself and in me. And she loves me. A lot.

Can you imagine? She comes over to cook for me, gives me gifts, drives me around, helps me with everything, or just does it for me. She loves listening to me, says she can’t get enough, and tells me I’m insanely beautiful, that my eyes are incredible. She praises me constantly and never, ever judges me. As a narcissist with a very low and unstable self-esteem, that’s incredibly important to me.

She puts in so much effort into our relationship—we never ignore each other or disappear. She’s just so… normal. She never gets mad unless something was done on purpose. And she was shocked to find out I’m the same. Like once, she accidentally got paint on my couch and thought I’d kill her. But why would I? It was an accident. I don’t get it, and neither does she. That’s why we get along so well—we feel completely safe together.

We’re kind of on different political sides too, and we love to trash-talk each other, but it’s always a joke. I feel completely safe saying absolutely anything around her. And her massages? Unbelievable.

Basically, I’m simping for Dasha, and she’s simping for me. Even though she loves me as a woman, and I can’t return those feelings, she never pressures me with her love. She doesn’t get frustrated or upset. Instead, she just does everything she can to make my life better, and she’s more than capable of it. Unfortunately, I can’t match her efforts—I’m just a useless, exhausted piece of trash🫠🫠🫠But I try to show my love and loyalty through gifts.

I often ask her how someone as incredible and strong as she is could fall for someone like me. But to her, I’m fascinating, valuable, and her princess. She says my hands are soft and should be protected from hard work. You guys have no idea how many sweet things she says and does for me.

Dasha is simply amazing. I know for sure she’ll achieve the highest success in life.

Now that I’ve hyped her up, let me try to put into words this weird, shapeless thought I’ve been having.

Is there such a thing as “not-loneliness”? I don’t consider myself formally lonely—I have a lot of deeply trusting relationships. But even in my closest moments with people, I feel internally separate, like a self-contained entity.

You’d think that feeling would fade when I get close to someone, but no—I physically sense that inside me, there’s a smaller version of me, wrapped in a thin plastic film, disconnected from the world.

It’s not a bad, exhausting, or tragic feeling—not at all. It just feels like a natural part of my physiology. This little person inside me is emotionally detached from any external connection.

No matter who I talk to, this little person feels nothing. It can suffer and rage if something upsets me. It can feel fear and exhaustion in anticipation of distress. It feels deep tenderness toward my dog. Toward nature and beauty.

But toward people? It’s like everything has been cut off. Always in a crowd, always just one of many. Maybe my heart has gone gray.

I wonder what it feels like to not be lonely. But that curiosity is mild.