At the gym, when a treadmill asks me for my age, it feels odd entering "3-0."
Physically, I feel 30 — I use a standing desk, and for some reason, my hands go numb when I shower nowadays — but otherwise, it's like I'm pretending to be 30.
I work in Manhattan, but sleep every night on a couch in someone's living room.
At bars, I humour people with alcoholic beverages, but would rather be drinking pop or fruit juice.
I get by. I'm generally content. And yet, I feel like I'm doing it — life — wrong. I'm not building anything. I'm just…stumbling through.
I'm probably fucked in the future, but, as I'm not sure what the point of life is, if I die tragically, so be it. [shrugs]
"Here lies Jon Yu. He was alive at one time."