Friday. 8:00 a.m.

Why am I awake

when the world still feels undecided?

Three straight days of sleep

and my mind clocks in early

without bringing a single dream with it.

No visions.

No warnings.

Just a blank interior.

So I make a deal with the morning.

Step one

walk the dog.

One dog. 150 pounds

of muscle and loyalty

who does not spiral,

who does not overthink,

who simply stands there

breathing like the earth owes him nothing.

He doesn’t ask why I’m tired.

He doesn’t care that my mind feels switched off.

He just leans into the leash

and assumes we are moving forward.

Step two

relocate from the bed

to the living room.

Six feet.

A migration.

Let’s see how that goes.

Out there

watch your friends.

Listen closely.

Some of us are balancing quietly

on the thin edge between “I’m fine”

and “I’m exhausted in places I can’t explain.”

The spiral never storms in.

It whispers.

It suggests.

It waits.

I haven’t been drinking.

I’ve been sober since October.

Clarity isn’t the enemy.

Numbness is.

I wish I could sack out of my own head

but there’s barely anything running in there.

Like the power is on

but the circuitry is tired.

Laugh out loud.

Because what else do you do

when your own mind feels like

an unplugged appliance?

I yawn.

The dog waits.

All 150 pounds of him.

He believes in walks.

He believes in motion.

He believes the day is happening

whether I feel ready or not.

Maybe today isn’t about inspiration.

Maybe it’s about gravity.

About being pulled forward

by something stronger than doubt.

Friday.

8:00 a.m.

I am up.

And when you have 150 pounds

of expectation staring at you,

you move.

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