Each morning boots up slowly,
like a program patched too many times.
I sift through thoughts—
some sharp, some static—
hoping today’s code will run clean.
But an error flashes quietly,
a familiar pop-up in the corner of my mind.
It doesn’t crash the whole system,
just reminds me I’m still learning
how to hold myself gently.
So I breathe—
a soft reset,
a small reroute around the heaviness.
I choose one task,
one step,
one moment that doesn’t ask too much.
Some days feel like progress,
lines of calm compiling neatly.
Other days, survival is enough—
a whispered promise
that I’ll keep showing up
even when the script feels scrambled.
And somewhere between the glitches
and the slow, steady repairs,
I remember:
there is courage in trying,
and grace in letting myself be
a work in progress
with no deadline.

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