Morning comes too soon, the harsh light filtering through the curtains casting long shadows across the room. I groan, pulling the covers over my head, trying to block out the day.
But reality is relentless, and I know I can’t hide forever.
I drag myself out of bed, the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders. The apartment is quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge in the corner.
Everything feels muted, like I’m moving through a fog. I go through the motions, making coffee, getting dressed, but it all feels distant, disconnected.
“I can do this,” I mutter, trying to muster some semblance of confidence.
But as I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, the dark circles under my eyes tell a different story.
I know I need to face the day, to confront the issues waiting for me at work and with the landlord.
But the thought of it all feels overwhelming, a tidal wave of anxiety threatening to pull me under.
The phone buzzes on the counter, a reminder of the emails and messages I’ve yet to respond to. I pick it up, hesitating before opening the work email.
The subject line reads “Performance Review Meeting,” and my stomach twists in knots.
“Just get it over with,” I tell myself, trying to push down the rising panic.
I set the phone down, taking a deep breath. I need to focus, to find a way to get through the day.
But as I stand there, the reality of my situation weighing heavily on my mind, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m on the brink of something I can’t control.
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