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Sleep Now.

Time feels like it's shrinking down. Each day, the moments I spend writing grow shorter. My words spill out, a rush of thoughts thrown onto the page, as the exhaustion fries my brain, leaving only the surface intact.

This is all my body knows now—drenched in sweat, weighed down by thoughts of tomorrow. Things are moving the way I want them to, but that’s what scares me. I want things to work out, but why are they working out? Should I question it, pick it apart until I see the flaws, and then stop it all? 

Or should I just give in, knowing at least I'll get some sleep? How can I focus on the bigger picture when I’m struggling to manage the smaller one, day by day?

But deep down, I know that what I do today is part of something larger. I'm planting seeds, hoping the fruits will be sweet for those who come after me. I tell myself not to think of my own needs, but I still crave this sleep. I don’t want to pay the price for it.

I’ll do something I’ve been avoiding. Maybe it’ll go smoother than I expect. I don’t know. I’ll find out. It’s a small change, but I’ll be a harbinger of it nonetheless.

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