Shizuki Okabe

Time feels different when you’re exhausted. Not slower exactly, just thinner, like the hours might crack if you lean on them too hard. Sleep stops being something you fall into and turns into something you bargain with. You adjust the blankets. Check the clock. Tell yourself just a few minutes more, even though it never works that way. Lying there, it almost feels like time is moving through me instead of past me, counting itself out one minute at a time. Eventually, you stop pushing against it. You let the tired settle in, heavy and familiar, and hope that when sleep finally shows up, it’s gentle enough to carry you somewhere that doesn’t ask anything of you.

Not everything needs fixing. Some things just need patience. A little time to loosen the knots, a little warmth to thaw the stiffness, and just enough faith to believe that what’s bent doesn’t have to stay broken. Some parts of us only straighten out when they’re ready.