I keep forgetting...

I keep forgetting that time doesn’t owe me an explanation.

It just happens like a fridge humming in the other room, or a text I reread

even though I knew exactly what it said.

Today I wanted to be better, and drink the coffee while it’s hot .

I failed by midnight. There was a moment, standing in the kitchen, barefoot, with crumbs on the counter. The moonlight did that thing where it pretends time is going to heal everything. For a second, I believed it, and I think that’s the dangerous part. How ordinary hope is. Just your brain saying, maybe this won't hurt forever.

Some days, I feel unfinished, but I keep showing up with my mismatched socks

and my belief that repetition counts as an effort .

Gács Timea IX. R