#jan18

these days, most nights feel like i’m pressed up against the glass of someone else’s life. watching everyone bloom—sand in their toes, sunlight in their hair, laughter that doesn’t echo back to me. i’m clapping from the bleachers, quietly, hoping they don’t hear how hollow it sounds.

there’s something cruel about this in-between. like sleepwalking through a dream i don’t remember having. not quite sorrow, not quite peace. just the dull hum of existing. we waltz with thanatos on a tightrope stretched across the mouth of purgatory—gracefully, desperately, pretending it’s a stage.

and maybe that’s the scariest part: not the sadness, but the stillness. the absence of ache. the quiet fear that tomorrow, the mask will slip, the gears will stall, and i’ll be left staring into the mirror, wondering when exactly i stopped being real.

Eat

B: Toast with butter/jelly and butter/peanut butter/honey

L: Oatmeal, corn, oatmeal chocolate chip cookie, a bite of coffee cake

D: Chicken parmesan with pasta, boba, a couple bites of sugar & spice pretzel - was not hungry when I decided to get the boba, was a craving

Stretching

Success!

Exercise

None

Sleep