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... > The thought drifts through my mind like a half-formed sigh, heavy with the weight of another day. My body feels anchored to the mattress, limbs sluggish, as if the air itself is pressing down on me.
Today will be different.
I say it every morning. A quiet promise to myself, one I know I won’t keep. But the lie is comforting, like a worn-out blanket—familiar, even if it doesn’t really warm me anymore.
Adulthood wasn’t supposed to feel like this. When I was little, I thou ...
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