Bring two bags for performance day. Two costumes in. Props in. Two shoes in. Should I bring comfortable clothes to change to? Don’t forget the silicone pads. Extra band-aids for your feet, remember ballerinas also wrap their feet in strange things. Memorize your lines, say them out loud. Exude confidence. Makeup, makeup. Maybe I should bring a mirror of my own to the office. There is not enough time to order a large Clara-sized bow for my supposedly Nutcracker-themed attire. My heart is going to explode. Everything has to be very calculated. My partner must think I’m insane, visiting Decathlon many times in a month, two consecutive days in a week. But the possibilities are endless. My adventurous and sojourning heart is nourished. I cannot wait to purchase Blacky (Forclaz Travel 500 40L). Should I wear Forky or Blacky to Cambodia? Will the cabin crew be strict enough on cabin allowances? I need a box just for travel things – that small waist bag, compression socks, compression cubes, carabiners, hiking gears and the likes. What kind of shoes should I wear to Angkor Wat? Don’t forget to book buses and re-plan the hotels. I hope the eVisa for Georgia gets approved on Tuesday. I am turning 26 in a few days. I am not so excited about that. I haven’t finished the newsletter for work. People are counting on me. I need to take my meds before performance day. I cannot risk fainting on stage, that wouldn’t be funny. I had wanted both my parents and my partner to come see me. But sometimes I have to pick and I never choose. I tend to want everything I cannot have. It’s a little bit past midnight now. I have rehearsals at noon and the whole morning to prepare. I hunger for complex carbohydrates, the last of my luteal phase in full swing. I get distracted and inspect Decathlon websites to download their image assets, a small preparation on crafting the most comprehensive digital inventory I’m attempting. Do I need a clear case for my Macbook Air? Maybe what I need a case for is my fragile heart. The thought process is not processing. The connections aren’t blinking. The brain laughs at silly little me. I collapse at the thought.