I woke before the sun,
in a house already moving.
The sound of water,
of chores already begun,
of expectations carried in the air
before I could even fully breathe.
I moved through the morning
like a quiet routine
brush, fold, pack, bathe, eat
trying to do everything right
before the day could question me.
But even small decisions
became something to be measured.
So I stepped out
into a world already awake.
A bus ride
a sudden hit at the side
a moment of shock
then stillness again
I am safe, I reminded myself
...

This morning began with small acts of care.
I woke up, prepared my medicine, brushed my teeth, and tried to move gently into the day. Even the little things felt like effort, but I still showed up for myself.
There were moments that felt uncomfortable.
The bus ride was uneasy, with someone coughing beside me. I walked through crowded spaces, searched for a simple watch repair, and felt watched, rushed, and slightly out of place. Still, I found my way. Step by step.
At home, words were heavier.
Not...

This morning began gently,
though the throat carried a quiet ache.
There was routine
brushing teeth, preparing breakfast,
small movements that felt almost automatic,
as if the body remembered what to do
even when the heart was elsewhere.
Smoke from a joss stick curled into the air,
a quiet prayer offered without many words.
Somewhere in between the ordinary,
something shifted.
A presence that had once been constant
fell silent.
No explanation,
no closing sentence
just a space where something used to be.
It...