Yesterday was November 25, 2025. Near my workplace, there is a disabled cat I often see missing its rear right leg. Yesterday I brought food for it. The way it growled was not aggression but a tired reminder of the space it needed. When I stepped back, it found calm and began to eat.

Watching it brought me back to the days I once spent in the hospital, when even my own body felt unfamiliar. Some wounds are not visible; some fractures show themselves only in stillness.

I learned that on November 25, 1867, Alfred Nobel patented dynamite a tool of destruction that was created not for chaos, but for controlled power. And I understood:

No inner pain destroys a person on its own. But pain without direction can silently tear one apart.

The cat limped, yet it walked. Years ago, I was weak, yet I continued. Power gains meaning only through the way it is carried.

Incompleteness does not stop a person. The way we hold it decides whether we collapse or rebuild.

Yesterday’s story was simple: I fed a limping cat. It accepted safety only through distance. A small moment heavier, quieter, and more real than the rest of the day.

youtube.com/@DayBeforeJournal