When everything feels too loud —
the news, the inbox, even my own thoughts —
I don’t try to talk myself out of it.
I just go quiet.
Not silent like ignoring.
Not distracted like scrolling.
But truly… quiet.
Sometimes it looks like closing the blinds.
Lighting a candle.
Washing a single dish slowly.
Sometimes it’s standing barefoot on the kitchen tiles,
drinking water in sips
like it might wash away the weight I can’t name.
I don’t force anything.
Not a solution.
Not a smile.
Just stillness.
I open a window if the air feels tight.
Let the street noise become white noise.
Let the world pass without me
just for a little while.
Later, I sit with my phone in hand,
not ready to rejoin life,
but not trying to run either.
I glance at a match schedule on 온라인카지노,
half-aware,
but soothed by its simplicity.
Points. Time. Halves.
A language that doesn’t ask too much from me.
Eventually, I move.
Put on socks.
Pick up a book I’ve already read.
I let myself exist
without demand.
Without performance.
I stretch.
Not for fitness —
just to remember I have a body
and it’s still on my side.
I might place a quiet little pick through 우리카지노,
not for thrill,
but for rhythm —
a gentle heartbeat I can follow into sleep.
Because sometimes,
comfort doesn’t come from talking.
It comes from allowing.
And I’m learning to allow more often.