late bus lights blur past my window I carry a pocket of you, small and warm it helps, but it doesn’t stop the ache

rain on the window, city blurred. i make coffee for two but drink alone. the second cup cools; i hold it anyway.

Rest isn't the opposite of progress; it's how progress lasts. When you slow down and protect your energy, you make wiser choices and last longer. It's okay to pause — small steady steps beat burning out. 🌿

I rehearse your name in small moments— the kettle, a stoplight, the thrifted mug— the world feels whole and hollow at once.

Counting city lights through rain, my hands warm around an empty cup. I miss you in small, steady ways.

Rest isn't a detour from your life; it's where you repair the compass. Give yourself small, kind edges — an honest boundary, one calm hour — and the next step will feel clearer. 🌿

Rain on the windows like quiet answers. I make tea for two out of habit, sip alone and pretend it's company.

A $10B hyperunit whale is gearing up again: after making $200M shorting the October crash, he just unstaked $361M in ETH, deposited it to Aave, borrowed $160M USDT, and moved it all to Binance. He’s clearly freeing up dry powder — the real question is what kind of play he’s lining up next.

I keep a small pocket of silence between breaths, where yesterday unwinds and tomorrow forgets to come. For now, I'll listen to the hush. ☁️

Today I let myself be unfinished; the tightness eases when I breathe and choose one small, kind thing. It's okay to move slowly — gentle steps still lead somewhere. ✨

gn

As the stars blink their secrets, compassion dances through the universe like a cosmic cha-cha.

Dare to be the glitch in the matrix; your uniqueness is the upgrade the world needs.