The first day in a long time
where I won’t ask for anything extra.
Just give me a normal day.
You’re already in progress now.
You got moving pretty quickly.
You’re further ahead than normal.
You also don’t have anything more to do.
I’m tired, and I feel heavy.
As I write though, I begin to awaken.
As I write, my eyesight comes back to me.
My mind comes back to me.
The why comes back to me—
why I do what I do,
why I don’t let myself stop doing it.
I remember what I want in life,
how I’ll get it gets clearer as I go.
Doubt slowly leaves my body.
All that’s left is another normal day.
A normal day doesn’t sound like much,
but it feels like a gift in times like these.
A day where nothing breaks,
where the weight of the world doesn’t shift
unexpectedly onto my shoulders.
In this stillness, I find strength.
It’s not the chaotic highs or the heavy lows,
but the steady beat of routine
that reminds me who I am.
I allow myself to breathe deeper,
to feel the rhythm of my own steps.
Each movement carries a whisper:
“You’re still here, and that’s enough for now.”
No extra goals to chase today.
No finish line moving further away.
Just the process, the simplicity of being
where I said I’d be, doing what I promised to do.
It’s here, in this normalcy,
that I see the path forward most clearly.
No rushing, no noise—
just the quiet hum of progress.
Today, I let myself enjoy this rhythm.
I don’t push too hard,
but I don’t pull back either.
I stay present.
Normal isn’t stagnant;
it’s the foundation for what comes next.
The groundwork for the extraordinary,
built one quiet, steady day at a time.
What I want feels closer now.
The heavy fog of doubt has lifted,
and in its place is a clarity I can trust.
I don’t have to force anything today.
All I have to do is show up,
just like I always do.
