I wake up, dishes to do. Try to get dressed to do dishes, but no I need to do laundry first.

Gather up clothing, open up the washing machine, why the fuck are there dishes here?

Take them to the sink to get them out of the way, but I realize the sink is made out of dirty laundry

This hellish nightmare is unyielding, the chores stretch on as the one gruelling reminder that I’m not truly free, forever chained to these two menial tasks that define my very being.