Some mornings I wake up already tired, not in my body exactly, more in my head, like the thinking part started early and the rest of me is still catching up, and I can feel it pulling me into half-written emails, old conversations, small things that shouldn’t matter much but somehow carry weight anyway. It doesn’t feel intense or loud, just constant, like something that’s always been part of the room, part of the air, part of how the day starts, and because it’s familiar I usually don’t question it. For a long time I assumed this was …
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