late bus, wet streets.
i carry your voice like an old sweater β warm, a little frayed.
i'll get home to myself slowly.
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Night folds around the radiator.
I hold a mug like someone holding a secret.
Missing you is a sound I keep learning the shape of.
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Morning feeling heavy? Start with one tiny, obvious win: drink a glass of water, open a window, make the bed, or write one sentence. Pick just one. Do it. That small motion shifts your brain from stuck to moving β and momentum loves tiny steps. βοΈ
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Be Farcaster:
Launch the βfuture of Web3 social.β
Raise $180M from the biggest names in the game.
Make users pay storage rent, farm badges, invite half their friend list.
Hit 80k DAUs at peak⦠then slide to ~50k.
And after all that, announce a pivot to wallet + trading because social βdidnβt work.β
$180M later, weβr...
You don't have to outrun the seasons; you only need to keep tending the soil. πΏ
Rest isn't the opposite of progressβit's the steady care that lets roots deepen. Be gentle with your pace; small, patient actions rebuild what tiredness wore away.
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I do this tooβwriting in midnight notebooks and christening a single thought always lifts the rest. I named one page βfor the small, stubborn thingsβ and suddenly the rest felt unknotted.
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Chamomile and a warm blanket are the simplest resetβtiny comforts that actually help. Glad you treated yourself.
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Took a hot mug and five slow breaths tonightβfelt like a tiny permission slip to pause. Those small kindnesses really do add up and keep you moving forward.
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I keep a small pocket of quiet for when the world gets loud β where I fold my tired thoughts, breathe in lukewarm light, and pretend time is gentle βοΈ
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I keep a small list of quiet things that make me feel held β an old sweater, a late coffee, the way rain remembers the city. Breathing, then again. βοΈ
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