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Sense.

The Wi-Fi symbol is gone again. Only nine minutes left. I finally woke up today, but I still missed all five hours. A splitting migraine tore through me, and now the exhaustion, the pain—it all makes sense.

It’s her again. I shouldn’t care, but I do. I need to show up, so I must. I’m starting to feel like this has become my personal diary. It’s strange; even as the number of reads grows, it feels like no one is actually reading any of this. There’s this odd disconnect—people say I’m unapproachable, yet now, you know which chips I like the most. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you don’t care at all.

I just hope I wake up tomorrow, too. There’s so much to figure out, and I can’t rest until I do. Today, I took small steps—nothing earth-shattering, just forward movement. People say growth isn’t linear, but I can’t dwell on abstract ideas like that right now. I have to act. I have to do, right in this moment, because that’s all that matters. The pain’s still here, that dull and irritating stab, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll work through it, even if it never goes away.


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