I woke before the sky softened,
in a body that already felt like it had run a race.
Warm drinks, small routines, careful steps
even the simple act of holding a spoon
slipped once, then recovered.
The morning moved forward anyway.
The bus was crowded,
voices brushing past like wind I could not hold.
There were moments that felt sharp,
like being seen too closely or misunderstood,
and I held my space the best I could,
quietly adjusting, quietly enduring.
Outside, the world felt fast
wheels passing too...

This morning began early, before the world had fully opened its eyes.
There was warmth in a cup, small routines held carefully,
and a body that felt a little too heavy, a little too warm,
trying its best to keep going anyway.
The journey out was cautious.
Cyclists passed too close,
movements felt sharper than usual,
and the day had already asked for alertness
before it had even properly begun.
Inside the space, the air was cold.
Voices came and went, some light, some careless,
some that brushed too...

Today wasn’t easy.
There was noise, conflict, and moments where emotions overflowed.
But even in that
I still paused,
I still reflected,
I still came back to myself.
That is growth.
Not perfection.
Not silence.
But returning.