When I was 7, I had a hobby of "fly herding." I thought that, when one of the flies in our insect-ridden Turkish apartment landed on my laptop screen, I could use the bright white of my mouse pointer to drive them in different directions.

One night I stayed up late, waiting and hoping for a fly to land on the screen for me. It didn't happen, and I bawled my eyes out to mom because I was sad and frustrated I was wasting time on this, instead of developing a Scratch game that was particularly dear to my heart at the time.

I remember wondering at the time if it was mere procrastination, or a cope. A distraction from the fact I'd been losing the ability to parse my own code, that the project was a poorly planned yet grandiose vision in the first place.

Life hasn't changed one bit since then. I still feel like this all the time, about everything.