A Slow Start, A Decent End

Mood Rating: 3/10

I couldn’t get out of bed this morning. I tried. Lately, I’ve been waking up at 5 AM for no reason—sometimes because I need to pee, sometimes just because my brain decides I should be awake. Today was no different. But since it was still too early to get ready for work, I let myself drift back to sleep.

When my alarm went off at 7:30 AM, as usual, I just… couldn’t move. My body felt heavy, my mind blank. I was stuck in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, where the idea of getting up felt impossible. I kept staring at the ceiling, hoping motivation would magically find me. It didn’t. By 8 AM, I had to make a choice: be honest about struggling or come up with an excuse. I took the coward’s way out and told my boss I had a family emergency. A complete lie. Guilt sat in my stomach, but so did relief—I needed those extra hours. A gamble. A risk.

I finally dragged myself out of bed at 10:30 AM, much later than I planned. Took a quick shower, barely dried my hair, and rushed out the door. My body still felt sluggish, like I was moving underwater, but I made it. Despite the rough start, I pushed through. My boss gave me a bit of advice about this morning, but in the end, I still performed well. Small win. And the best part? I finally got to eat honey pork after craving it for days. The first bite was warm, slightly sweet, and incredibly satisfying—worth the wait.

On the topic of food, I did lie to my family today. About fasting. The truth is, I only fasted for the first two days of Ramadan. After that, I stopped. My body was still adjusting to Brintellix, and I felt unwell. At my second appointment, I told my doctor, and he suggested taking it at night. Since then, things have been easier. My family already knew I wasn’t fasting, but today, for whatever reason—pride, habit, ego—I told them I was. The words came out automatically, like muscle memory. It felt strange, knowing I didn’t have to lie, yet doing it anyway.

Honestly, I don’t see myself fasting at all. Secretly, I’ve converted. Not on paper, but in my heart. I still believe in God—just not sure which one. Religion is complicated, especially when you’re born into a faith where leaving is considered a sin. Even harder when the laws around it feel suffocating. Some days, I think about what it would be like to be completely free in my beliefs. Other days, I wonder if I’ll always carry this weight of obligation.

On another note, I found out my favorite series, Evil, has a fourth season. I last watched it in 2021—season 2—four years ago. Thought it was discontinued, but apparently, it kept going. It’s strange revisiting something after so long. The characters, the setting, the eerie atmosphere—I remembered it all, but it still felt new. So tonight, I’m rewatching season 1, indulging in nostalgia while having a second dinner. Maybe I just need something familiar right now, something comforting.

My mom invited me for supper with my stepdad and brother. I passed. Too late for a weekday, and honestly, I just wanted to be alone. Sometimes, I don’t have the energy to socialize, even with family. It’s nothing personal—I just need space.

Despite the rough start, today wasn’t bad. Just a little gloomy in the morning. But I made it through. And that’s enough.