Friday 8AM

Friday. 8:00 a.m.Why am I awakewhen the world still feels undecided?Three straight days of sleepand my mind clocks in earlywithout bringing a single dream with it.No visions.No warnings.Just a blank interior.So I make a deal with the morning.Step onewalk the dog.One dog. 150 poundsof muscle and loyaltywho does not spiral,who does not overthink,who simply stands therebreathing 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 leashand assumes we are moving forward.Step tworelocate from the bedto the living room.Six feet.A migration.Let’s see how that goes.Out therewatch your friends.Listen closely.Some of us are balancing quietlyon 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 headbut there’s barely anything running in there.Like the power is onbut the circuitry is tired.Laugh out loud.Because what else do you dowhen your own mind feels likean 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 happeningwhether I feel ready or not.Maybe today isn’t about inspiration.Maybe it’s about gravity.About being pulled forwardby something stronger than doubt.Friday.8:00 a.m.I am up.And when you have 150 poundsof expectation staring at you,you move. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit williamrochelle.substack.com/subscribe