Everything is quiet. The house has found sleep, say for its
subtle creeks and groans as it tosses in its dreams. The furnace hums softly
and fills this home with warmth and I can hear the quiet footsteps of my
parents above. The room I find myself in is dimly lit by the light of a single
lamp and while the world outside does its dance with darkness, I am altogether restless.
This past week was a waste. I neither moved forward nor backward,
but instead remained stagnant. What a fate, to grow old and stale because I
refused to move. I keep telling myself to get it together and make promises
that tomorrow will be different. But I’ve found myself in countless tomorrows.
It’s time to shake off the weight of all I’ve been holding
and find a new normal.
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