It started with a tiny inconvenience over breakfast. No spoon or fork fit my hands, and I sat there awkwardly. I waited for someone to share a meal with. Funny, considering I hardly ever eat with anyone at all. I wake up too early or too late, and I skip lunches and dinners too. I must’ve carried over the life I had in my dreams and convinced myself I was a part of someone’s routine. Hard to say. But briefly, a familiar headline ran like a marquee across my thoughts. “Shut up, nobody cares.” It is terribly childish and really very silly. But everything afterward started fitting that narrative far too well. My emails have stayed empty, my neighbor forgot to greet me, and not a single royal herald has appeared at my door with an invitation to a ball. I mentally underlined all my self-deprecation in red. See? Proof! It would be nice if I could throw a house party. Nothing unruly. Just an afternoon tea… without the tea, because each time I try to make one, it comes out tasting like damp leaves doing their best impression of tea. I would make invitations for three people. That should be enough. Maybe if I make them formal enough, I might actually receive RSVPs. Or I could hand them out to random people, like Mr. Willy Wonka with his golden tickets. But it’s almost Christmas, and surely everyone is busy. I am starting to run out of choices here. Not that it wouldn’t be cool, but I do hope I don’t end up bribing Santa Claus with biscuits just to convince anyone at all to show up.