This is me.

Nescio quid.

I don’t know what that means.

I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know why I’m doing whatever it is I don’t know I’m doing.

I definitely don’t know what I should be doing, and I don’t know how to find out, so I don’t know for certain that I’m not doing it, but I’m pretty sure I’m probably not doing it.

I don’t know who to ask to find out. I don’t know whether that might actually be okay, because I don’t know what I’d ask them if I did know who to ask.

I don’t know what I did to get myself into this mess. I don’t even know what this mess is. I don’t know with absolute certainty that it is a mess and not a catastrophe, digestive aid, or clusterfuck.

I don’t know what to do next. If I did know what to do, I don’t know if I’d know how to do it. I don’t know what’s going to happen as a result of not knowing how to do the stuff I don’t know to do.

Lucky for me, lots of people do know exactly what I should do and why I should do it and how I should do it, but none of them say the same thing and I don’t know how to tell who really knows what I need to know.

Maybe no one knows. Who knows? I don’t know.

I don’t know what song she’s playing, but I hope it’s Cielito Lindo.