
Wake up. Again.
•
No alarm. Don’t need one.
Your body knows the drill,
Misery never sleeps in.
•
No messages.
No plans.
No one waiting.
•
You sit on the edge of the bed.
Head heavy, chest hollow.
Just like yesterday. Just like tomorrow.
•
You used to dream.
Used to fight.
Used to hope.
•
Now?
•
You clock in. Clock out.
Stack the money.
To spend on things that make you feel worse.
•
Things that rot your gut
and numb your brain
just enough to get through the evening.
•
They say you should journal.
They say you should meditate.
They say you should go outside.
•
You say nothing.
Because what’s the point?
•
You lift weights.
You eat protein.
You sleep 8 hours.
•
For what?
•
There’s no one to see it.
No one to touch it.
No one to care.
•
You’re a well-oiled machine
with no destination.
•
What’s left?
•
The gym.
The job.
The silence.
•
You walk past mirrors
and don’t recognize the man
who never became who he was supposed to.
•
But you keep going.
Not out of strength.
Out of momentum.
•
And maybe that’s all life is.
A long, slow drift toward nothing.
With strong arms.
•
What’s left?
Just you.
And the weight of being you.
About the Creator
Fathi Jalil
I’m a writer who loves sharing stories and making connections. Along the way, I learned how to make writing work for me. Now, I share what I’ve learned so others can too.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.